


What We Make of It

by wittyy_name



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Female pronouns for Pidge, Fluff, Fluff with Feels, Hook-Up, M/M, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, also smut, easily skippable if that isn't your thing, fluff and feels and fun and fucking, getting to know eachother, ironman race, it's intense guys, it's minor tho?, keith shiro and allura are triathletes, let's go baby!, so much fluff jesus, the four F's, they have fun together, they're in New Zealand btw, this is mostly just a meaningful fluff fic, vacation fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 17:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 46,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10443345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wittyy_name/pseuds/wittyy_name
Summary: Keith has been training for this for months. So despite feeling like everything else in his life is falling apart and could be summed up with a big, blaring question mark, he finds himself halfway across the world with Shiro and Allura, preparing for his first ironman triathlon. He was expecting some typical touristy activities and a grueling day of physical activity. What he wasn't expecting was to meet a gorgeous boy with bright blue eyes and a smile that made his insides squirm.Lance has been in a rut, unable to find the happiness that once filled his life. Everything looks gray, and he feels suffocated. And that's how he finds himself halfway across the world, backpacking across a foreign country with his best friend, Hunk, and their new friend, Pidge. That is, until they run out of money and decide to get a job. He's having fun, and colors are leaking past the dam and back into his life. What he wasn't expecting was to meet a beautiful boy with dark eyes and a shy smile that broke those flood gates wide open.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! If you've been following my tumblr or twitter, you know I've recently been on a family vacation while my dad did the New Zealand ironman. Because of the trash that I am, while I was there, I started to translate a lot of our experiences and the things I saw into a klance story. So I decided to try my hand at a oneshot based on this short au I came up with. And this is the product of that. A lot of the things described are based on things I saw, conversations I had, and things we did. 
> 
> It's mostly fluff and getting to know each other and all that good feeling jazz, but there are a couple instances of smut. They're both short and not very detailed, but if that isn't your thing, feel free to skip it. The story doesn't revolve around it, so you're good. It's pretty easy to see coming, so when you get to that point of "eh, I'd rather not" then go ahead and skip down to the next cut. 
> 
> For anyone who doesn't know, ironman races are the longest official triathlons (I believe). They consist of a 2.4 mile swim, followed by a 112 mile bike course, and a 26.2 mile run. They're crazy and ridiculous, and both my parents and my brother do them. 
> 
> EDIT: This fic now has a playlist that goes along with it and gives all those "yolo" "seize the day" feels that I tried to capture with this fic. You can find the playlist [here!](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLjomRnyqkn5QYhPjZdy2-8Tf8XWoNrlcJ)
> 
> So yeah, happy reading!

There was nothing like a small heart attack to wake one up from feeling jet lagged.

“Shiro, for fuck’s sake!” Keith’s knuckles were white from where they were wrapped around the grip handle. His other hand was splayed out on the seat next to him, back ramrod straight.

The car jerked to a start again, pulling out into the roundabout with a little more care this time. “Don’t worry,” Shiro said through gritted teeth. He sounded just as on edge as Keith felt. “I’ve got this—“

“Don’t worry? You nearly pulled out in front of another car!”

“I’m just getting the hang of driving on this side of the road—“

“And roundabouts apparently—“

“It’s not as easy as it looks!” He snapped, then sighed, shoulders slumping in the driver’s seat. “It won’t happen again.” He grumbled.

If Keith was being honest, he really didn’t blame Shiro for nearly getting them hit. It was his first time driving on the left side of the road, not to mention being on the opposite side of the car from what he was used to. Add into the mix the fact that they were in the middle of a big city, and yeah, it had to be tough. It was a lot to take in and a lot to get used to in a short amount of time. He wasn’t sure he could do any better. Still, seeing another car nearly ram into Shiro’s driver’s side window after he started to pull out into a roundabout too soon kind of put him on edge.

He wasn’t not exactly kind when he was on edge.

“Perhaps I should drive.” Allura said from the passenger’s seat. Her voice was carefully even and a hell of a lot kinder than Keith had been, but she was dating him, so that wasn’t too surprising. And despite her calm demeanor, Keith could see the tension coming of her in waves. Neither of them liked the idea of Shiro being in another accident.

“I’m with Allura on this one.”

“It’ll be alright.” Shiro said, shoulder’s stiff and hands tight on the steering wheel. His lips were pressed into a thin, stubborn line. “I’ll get the hang of it.”

After the third time he nearly pulled out into the wrong lane or drifted too close to the side of the road, Allura took over driving.

“I would’ve gotten the hang of it eventually…” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and slouching in the passenger’s seat.

Allura put a comforting hand on his arm, smiling at him kindly. “I know, but this is simply easier. I have more practice, after all.”

He met her gaze, tension easing out of him as his lips curved into the shadow of a smile. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

She nodded. “You have nothing to prove. Besides, you remember how I was when I first got to the states.”

His smile cracked wider as he chuckled, voice fond. “I remember. That was… interesting.”

She grinned along with him before putting the car into gear, pulling out onto the road. “Interesting isn’t exactly how I would put it.”

“Terrifying is more like it.” Keith supplied from the backseat.

She chuckled. “Exactly, so you have nothing to be embarrassed about, Shiro.”

“It’s weird sitting on this side of the car and not driving…” Shiro mused.

She laughed. “Tell me about it.”

With Allura at the wheel, Keith found himself finally able to relax.

The drive south gave him a much better impression of the country. Whereas the city looked enough like any other American city, outside the city limits, it was clear he was no where near home. The rolling hills, sprawling farmlands, mountains that rose and fell in waves, valleys that dipped and curved. There were trees of every kind, some scattered and some clustered, some covering mountain sides and some densely gathered in the cracks of the landscape. A spattering of earth tones, greens and browns, etching out a landscape occasionally dotted by buildings and cut with twisting roads. It was unlike anything he had ever seen, and he was transfixed by it.

It looked as if someone had put their fingers beneath the earth and pushed it up in random places, creating points and finger line hills that stretched the countryside, like one of those pin point impression toys.

The city looked like a city, but the countryside was beautiful. A vastly different scene than anything he’d known, a unique vision all to itself. Staring at the hilltops as they drove, he found his wanderlust acting up, an itch beneath his skin. An itch to leave everything behind, to be on his own, to run, to move, to explore, to get away, to _breathe_.

Looking out across the foreign landscape, he could almost forget why they were there in the first place.

Almost.

 

* * *

 

“Keith, you can’t sleep right now.”

“Fuck off, Shiro.” Keith grumbled, voice muffled by the pillow pressed to his face.

“If you sleep now, you’ll just be jet lagged for longer.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, I do.” He slapped Keith’s legs. Keith blindly kicked at him, only meeting open air. Shiro chuckled. “I’m the one who has to deal with you. You’re not exactly a peach when you’re tired and grumpy.”

“Fuck off.”

It took them a lot longer to get to Taupo than anticipated. After getting lost several times and a touristy stop at Hobbiton, where Shiro had taken an embarrassing amount of pictures, they had finally made it to the town that hosted the New Zealand Ironman. Luckily, their hotel was pretty easy to find, nestled right up along the lakefront. After getting checked in and dropping off their bags, Shiro and Allura had walked down to the ironman village to look around, despite the thing not being fully set up yet. Keith had opted to stay in his room and relax.

He had been pleasantly dozing until Shiro had come bursting in.

“You haven’t even unpacked anything.”

“Nope.”

“Come on, put your swimsuit on.”

Keith shifted the pillow enough to eye him warily. They usually tested the water in their wetsuits before the race, but they usually did that in the morning sometime. And Shiro had said swimsuit, not wetsuit… “Why?”

Shiro stared at him from where he stood at the foot of Keith’s bed, arms crossed over his chest and one eyebrow raised. “Because Coran is taking us to the local hot spring, remember?”

Keith frowned. “No?”

“Allura mentioned it in the car.”

“Oh…”

He sighed. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

“I had my headphones on.”

“Right. Well, that doesn’t change the fact that we’re going. Come on.” He leaned forward and slapped at Keith’s legs again, this time with more force. He swiped Keith’s feet right off the bed.

Keith groaned, rolling onto his side and shifting the pillow back over his face. “Go without me.”

“Nope. Come on, the hot springs will be good for you.”

“I’m allergic to water.”

“I’ll drive you to the hospital if you break out in hives.”

“It’s like you _want_ me to die.”

Shiro slapped his legs again, and Keith hid his smile in the pillow.

“Get up.”

“No.”

“Keith.”

“Shiro.”

“Now.”

“Make me.”

Shiro wasted no time grabbing Keith by the ankles and dragging him halfway across the bed. He yelped, kicking at his brother’s grip until he let go and attempting to scramble away. Shiro came after him. They wrestled for several minutes, all flailing limbs and stabbing elbows. Shiro took Keith’s knee to the side, and Keith nearly managed to push him off the bed. His victory was short lived, however, because it didn’t take long for Shiro to get ahold of Keith and dig his fingers into his sides. Keith yelped, and struggled until he fell off the bed.

Lying on the floor, slightly dazed, limbs sprawled, and breathing heavily, he glared up at Shiro.

“Hot springs, dinner, then you can sleep.” He said, but the diplomatic tone of voice was ruined by his victorious grin.

Keith ran his hands over his face, groaning. “Fiiiine.”

Shiro nodded, slipping off his bed and heading for the door as Keith stood. He paused in the doorway. “We’re on vacation now.” He said, voice quiet and caring in that way that’s so distinctly Shiro. He gave Keith a small smile. “Try to relax a little. Have fun.”

“I am relaxed…” He grumbled.

Shiro hummed, giving him an infuriatingly knowing smile before slipping out the door.

Keith sighed, running his fingers through his hair. His gaze drifted to the window. Their hotel was across the street from the small grassy strip that gave way to a hill that tumbled into the lake. As such, Keith had an amazing view of Great Lake Taupo. He could see the colored buoys for the race bobbing gently in the water. A few boats sped across the lake, disturbing its otherwise glass-like surface.

His eyes were drawn to the large, colorful parasail that drifted almost lazily above the lake, dragged behind one of the boats.

He watched with transfixed yet lazy attention as the parasail dipped, dunking the legs of the parasailors in the water before pulling back up.

He hadn’t realized how long he had been staring until he heard Shiro’s knock at the door, telling him they were leaving. He had to scramble to get ready.

 

* * *

 

When Keith was six, he was adopted into the Shirogane family.

They were kind people who cared for him like one of their own. Their smiles were honest. Their words were genuine. Their love was real. They took in a child who didn’t have a place in the world and gave him one. He was jaded at first, but opened up through time. He grew close to his new brother. He was happy to have a family, even if they weren’t the ones who had given him life.

When he was seventeen, he lost those parents, too.

It was then that he learned that life wasn’t always fair.

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, the hot spring wasn’t so bad., a fact that Keith begrudgingly admitted after several minutes of Shiro’s prodding.

But when he said it wasn’t so bad, he meant the water. The water was hot where it flowed out of the ground, filling the small nook with warm water and trailing off the cooler temperatures as it flowed toward the attached river. He’d been in hot tubs before, but never a natural hot spring. The added affect of being surrounded by nature and with rocks beneath him helped complete the pleasant atmosphere. It was different, but not bad. It had the potential to be very peaceful and relaxing.

If there wasn’t, you know, a shit ton of people cramped and crowded into the small space.

“Hot springs and thermal pools like this can be found all over this area due to the region’s large underground magma chamber.” Coran was saying. He and Allura had managed to wiggle their way close to the spring’s outlet, putting them right in the thick of the crowd. The crowd that was currently listening with rapt attention to Coran’s educational spiel.

Keith had opted to stick to the edges of the crowd, where the water was still warm but without sitting thigh to thigh with strangers. Shiro had joined him, politely declining Allura’s insistence.

“In fact, as you drive around the area, you can see steam rising from places where the thermal springs reach the surface. It’s quite an eery and beautiful sight!”

“So does that mean the volcano is still active?” Allura asked.

“Why yes, though only one of the volcano’s cones is currently active.”

Keith listened with half an ear, but his attention and his eyes wandered. Beyond the cluster of half naked people cluttered in the small hot spring, there were a few people around the small pool of luke warm water that was deceptively still, despite being attached to a rushing river. They paddled around the water, children climbed on rocks, a few people sat around the water’s edge. There were a couple families with dogs that sprinted through the water after toys. There were a couple of dudes sitting in the grass off to the side, sharing a joint between them.

Keith’s gaze swept over them all, but there was one swimmer who kept catching his attention. It was probably due to the fact that the guy was at the edge of the small pool, swimming against the river’s current and not really going anywhere. Keith might have thought nothing about it, if it weren’t for the fact that the river’s currently was fast and there had been several signs on the way down here warming of the dangers of swimming into the open river.

So Keith watched him swim, still half listening to Coran.

At one point he must have tired, because he stopped swimming, dragging himself a little to the side to rest in the stiller waters of the pool. He was able to stand there, half his chest peaking out from above the water’s surface as he ran a hand through his short hair.

Keith continued to stare because… wow. Just… _wow_.

His skin was beautifully brown, but not the kind of tan that he’d seen plenty of locals have. It was a rich darkness that comes with genetics. Brown hair cut short and sticking up at odd angles from where his fingers had run through it. Built lean with broad shoulders and a well shaped back and arms. He couldn’t see much of his body, but he was willing to bet it was one of a swimmer, if the small glances he got were anything to go by.

He slowly turned, eyes lazily wandering around the hot springs. And then they caught Keith’s, doing a double take when he realized he was staring. Keith froze, stiffening and unable to look away, despite being caught in the act.

Now that he could see his face, he once again found himself thinking _wow_.

Then the man winked, lips curling into a knowing smirk, and Keith bristled.

“Wanna do that?” Shiro asked, leaning close to speak lowly.

He wouldn’t mind doing that. Not at all— wait, what?

He blinked, eyes jerking away from the man to stare with mild horror at his brother. “What?” He said intelligibly.

Shiro leaned back a little, nodding toward the man. “Wanna try swimming against the current?” He rephrased, amusement clear in his voice. Though Keith couldn’t be sure if he really understood the reason for Keith’s panic. He hoped not. He hoped Shiro just took it as Keith panicking over the idea of swimming in that rushing current and not because he might have been checking the guy out.

Keith’s let his face twist into something incredulous, lip curling as he said, “Not on your life.”

“I know you’re not a strong swimmer—“

Keith snorted. “That might be the understatement of the year.”

“—But maybe that guy can give you lessons.” Shiro gave him a pointed look. lips curling up at the edges while he nudged Keith’s side with an elbow.

“Shiro,” Keith groaned, shoving his brother’s shoulder. “ _Stop_.”

Shiro chuckled, shrugging. “Just trying to get you to loosen up and enjoy yourself. Maybe a cute stranger is exactly what you need to distract yourself from the race.”

Keith crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes as he mumbled, “Not likely.” He could feel heat rising to his face and blamed it on the hot spring.

Shiro just smiled that infuriatingly knowing smile and looked back toward the stranger. Keith turned his head away, though he itched to follow his gaze. Instead he tried to focus back in on whatever Coran and Allura were talking about now. Somehow they had gotten on the topic of Lord of the Rings. How had they even gotten there from talking about the hot springs?

“Oh look, there he goes.” Shiro said offhandedly.

“What?” Keith turned around and immediately looked for the swimmer. He was no longer there. Brows furrowed, he followed Shiro’s gaze until he spotted the man swimming down river. Or rather… attempting to swim across, but the river’s quick current carried him down faster than he was managing to gain distance. Keith gaped, one brow going up as confusion colored his features. “What the hell is he doing?”

Crossing his arms across his chest, Shiro leaned back. “Looks like he’s trying to swim across.”

Keith snorted a short laugh. “Yeah, no shit. But why?”

He shrugged. “Who knows.”

“There are signs everywhere that say no swimming.”

“Yup. Maybe he’s an athlete squeezing in some swim practice?”

“If he drowns in the river, he can’t exactly do the race.”

They twisted around on their rock seats to watch the swimmer’s progress. Keith was surprised when he suddenly stood up about three fourths of the way across, walking with the exaggerated slowness of someone wading through waist deep water.

“Huh, guess it’s shallow over there.”

“Where is he going now?”

“Looks like he’s going around the bend?”

Sure enough, they watched as the man followed the shallow water strip on the far side of the river, walking around the river bend and disappearing from sight. Keith blinked, half expecting him to come back. He didn’t. “What… exactly was his plan there? Where is he even going?”

He looked back at Shiro, brows furrowed. The older man just shrugged with one shoulder. “Who knows. Why? Are you worried?” He asked, lips quirking up into a teasing smile.

Keith scowled. “No. I don’t even know him.”

“But you could have.”

“Doesn’t matter, he’s gone now.”

“Along with your chance to get laid.”

“ _Shiro!_ ”

He held up both hands in surrender, grin widening. “I’m just saying!”

Keith glared at him, internally weighing the pros and cons of drowning Shiro in the hot spring. His biggest concern was Allura, but if he drowned him quickly, he might be able to slip away down river before she could catch him.

“What’s going on over here?” Allure’s voice cut through their staring contest, and they both turned to look at her. She slid through the water, coming to a stop next to them. A small smile on her face, brow quirked in amusement as she took in their expressions. Coran followed close behind.

“Keith and I just watched someone swim across the river.”

She lifted both brows, glancing out at the river before looking back. “With that current?”

Shiro nodded. “He got pushed pretty far down before he made it to the shallow spot on the other side. Then he just stood up and walked around the river bend without looking back.”

Allura’s lips tugged into a small frown. “I hope he’s alright. I’m not sure what’s down river.”

“It’s a shame he disappeared. Keith was busy drool—“

Keith elbowed him sharply in the ribs, cutting off his words as he chuckled. Keith glared at him, ignoring the way Allura hid her smile behind her hand.

They were silent for a moment, until Coran cleared his throat. They all glanced at him as he dramatically raised both hands, face forming an expression that was a hair too dramatic to be serious. “And as he rounded the river bend, he disappeared from our sights but not our hearts.” He said, theatrically, putting one hand to his chest and the other to his forehead, looking off into the distance. Allura chuckled behind her hand, and Shiro’s grin widened. Keith snorted in amusement. Coran swept out his hands, splashing them a little in his enthusiasm. “He lives on in legends, known only as the River Man.”

“River Maaaan!” Shiro sang under his breath.

“River Maaaan!” Allura and Coran echoed, louder and more enthusiastic. People started to look at them, but they ignored the looks in favor of coming up with more tales of the River Man.

Keith just sat back and watched them, smiling.

 

* * *

 

“Dude, come on, we’re gonna be late.”

“Chill, our first reservation isn’t for another hour.” Lance lifted his cup to his lips, taking a shallow sip of his drink and wincing a little as it hit his tongue. Still a little too warm. He stood with one hand on his hip on the hillside that sloped down to the small beach.

He could hear Hunk shift his weight from foot to foot, gravel crunching beneath his weight as he made an uncertain sound in the back of his throat, bordering on a whine. “I guess, but you _know_ Pidge is already there, and you _know_ how she gets without her coffee.”

“We’ll get her coffee.”

“Yeah, but if it’s cold, she won’t drink it.”

“It’ll be alright.” Lance said, waving a hand at Hunk to brush off his worries.

He spared a glance for his friend, seeing the mildly dubious expression on his face. But at his smile, Hunk sighed, shaking his head. “Alright, but if her coffee is cold, I”m blaming you, and _you’re_ the one who has to be on the boat with her.”

“Fair enough,” He looked back out to the lake, waving out a hand to gesture to the water. “Look at them out there, Hunk. Tons of beautiful athletes with beautiful athlete bodies wrapped up in tight wetsuits that leave nothing to the imagination.” He put a hand back on his hip, sipping his drink and letting out a contented sigh. “I could get used to this.”

They were standing near the docks and beach side that would serve as the official race start. The race wasn’t until the weekend, but athletes had already started to pour into town. And this morning, several of them were dressed in their wetsuits, testing out the lake with short swims.

“Most of them are way older than us, dude.” Hunk said, coming to stand next to him.

“Pfff, details.” Lance said, waving him off. “There’s probably plenty around our age.”

“I mean, yeah, but those age groups are significantly smaller. These races are usually filled with middle aged people. At least in their thirties. Not a lot of twenty-somethings.”

“How would you know?”

Hunk shrugged. “I googled it when Pidge told us the race was gonna be in town. I was curious.”

“There’s gotta be some of them around our age. I mean, look at— okay, maybe not her. What about— nope. Okay but that one—never mind, they just turned around and they definitely have wrinkles.” Lance’s face scrunched up in a pout, shoulders slumping. “Huh, this is actually pretty difficult when they’re all wearing wetsuits and swim caps…”

Hunk nudged him with his elbow. “Weren’t you a swimmer, dude? Shouldn’t this be easy?” He said with a small grin.

Lance shove him back. Not that the big guy moved much. “Come on! It’s hard to tell from this distance!” His eyes roamed over the waterfront, searching through the bodies that were bobbing in the deeper waters and wading through the shallows. His eyes landed on one man, huge and broad shouldered, with a broad chest and slimmer hips, legs unfortunately disappearing as he waded into the water. There seemed to be something… off about his right arm, but he dove into the water before Lance could really get a good look at it. A shame, really. He would have liked to stare at that one a little more. His gaze drifted to the person he had been standing next to a moment before, and—

“Hellooooo, there.” Lance purred, eyes raking up and down the slim figure. Shoulders wide without being too broad, nice arms, lean but well built figure, slim waist, tight ass. All of that definition being hugged by the second skin of their wetsuit, putting it all on display. They stood in the shallows, waves lapping up against their waist, hiding and revealing their ass in a way that made Lance ache to see more.

They had a great body, yeah, but so did most of the other athletes Lance had seen. What made them stand out was the fact that, for one, they weren’t wearing a swim cap. Their hair was dark and pulled back into a small and messy ponytail. And for two, they weren’t moving. Everyone else was wading through the water, paddling around or swimming out to some of the buoys. At the very least, they were treading water. But not this one. This one was just standing there, arms spread out so their hands barely brushed the top of the water, staring out into the lake. Lance had the sudden urge to see their face, insanely curious about the expression he might find there.

“Hello, who?” Hunk asked, leaning down over Lance’s shoulder and interrupting his obvious oogling.

“That one.” Lance said, leaning into his friend and wrapping an arm around his shoulders while he used this other hand to point. He felt his lips curving up into a smile. “That one, right there! Just standing in the water. They _have_ to be around our age. I just know it. And they’re damn fine, too.”

Hunk leaned forward a fraction, eyes squinting slightly as he took in the person Lance pointed out. “Are they a boy or a girl?”

Lance raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at Hunk. “Does it matter?”

Hunk hummed thoughtfully, making a face that Lance vaguely recognized as guilty. “I guess not.” He straightened, raising his hand, and both coffee cups he held, in surrender. “My bad, dude.”

Lance grinned, patting his shoulder. “No problem, buddy. It happens. You’re learning, and that’s what matters.” He tilted his chin down, gazing up at Hunk as he felt his smile turn mischievous. “Point is, that is a damn fine specimen—“

Hunk groaned. “Lance, please don’t—“

“And they deserve to know it.”

“Oh my god, Lance—“

It was too late. Lance had already stepped away from him, lifting his fingers to his mouth and using them to make a loud, sharp wolf whistle. He heard Hunk groan again, and saw him hide behind the coffee cups out of the corner of his eye. Several people turned to look, but he ignored them, keeping his gaze fixed on the person standing in the water.

Then they turned around, thick brows furrowed and lips pursed into a small frown. Alright, so a dude. Probably? Maybe. Either way, Lance could roll with it. They looked around, hands lifting to idly tighten their ponytail.

“Hey, beautiful!” Lance called, waving his free hand, an easy grin on his lips. There was a good distance between them, too far for him to really make out any of their features, but close enough that he could see the confusion and surprise as their head snapped to look at him. At least, he assumed they were looking at him. Hard to tell. Then they turned their head, looking around. Lance chuckled. “You with the ponytail!” He called, causing their head to snap toward him once more.

He could see them frown. It was in the way their shoulder’s tensed and hunched, in the way their features pinched, dramatic enough to be seen at a distance. Hesitantly, with enough uncertainty to be adorable, they lifting a hand and pointed at their chest.

Lance’s grin widened. “Yeah, I’m talking to you, beautiful! If you need help taking that wetsuit off later, I’m available!”

They rolled their eyes. And while Lance couldn’t exactly _see_ their eyes, they did it with enough flair that it seemed to rock their whole body. He’d seen it enough from Pidge to know exactly what it looked like. They turned then, wading deeper into the water with enough determined force to give him the impression of stomping, despite the waist deep water. As they went, they flipped him off over their shoulder.

Lance’s grin only widened as he chuckled, muttering under his breath. “Feisty.”

“Not your best, dude.” Hunk said, stepping up beside him.

Lance’s grin faded into a pout. “What? I thought that was pretty good!”

Hunk just shook his head, a small smile on his lips as he gestured to the water with a coffee cup. “The results speak for themselves.”

“Everyone’s a critic…” He grumbled.

Hunk did his best to awkwardly pat him on the shoulder with his elbow. “Come on, let’s get to the boat before Pidge crashes from caffeine deprivation.”

Lance sighed. “Yeah, alright.” As he followed Hunk back toward the sidewalk, he spared a glance over his shoulder. There were several swimmers headed along the buoy line, but his eyes zeroed in on one that he was pretty sure was Pretty Ponytail. It was hard to tell from this distance, but there was something in the way they swam, a fire and a determination that forced themselves through the water, that drew in Lance’s attention.

Beautiful while stoic and still, gorgeous and strong while in motion. Yeah, Lance could roll with that.

 

* * *

 

“What dock are they at?” Allura asked, tucking a strand of hair behind an ear. Her hair was piled high in a tight bun to keep it from whipping around in the wind. Wind that had spent the entire day whipping the water around and making Keith uncomfortable whenever he looked at it.

Shiro hummed, checking his phone. “Pidge said it was dock twenty-seven.” He looked up, glancing to the side and gesturing to the docks they were passing. “That’s dock ten, so it should be a little further down.”

“Do you think it could be the one with the giant, yellow parasailing sign?” She asked, her smile bleeding into his voice as she pointed ahead of them.

Shiro lifted his head, a smile quirking his lips. “Could be.”

Keith trailed a couple steps behind them, arms crossed over his chest. He hadn’t said much all day. To the point where Shiro had asked if he was alright during breakfast. He had said he was alright, of course. No need to worry his brother. He and Allura had shot him sympathetic looks and gave him comforting touches. He didn’t mind too much. Let them think it was just nerves and the race. It wouldn’t be a complete lie. The race as certainly weighing heavily on his mind.

They were no doubt hoping that these little excursions would be good distractions for him. He hoped so, too. Not that he had much faith that it would work.

As they walked along the docks, he found his shoulders slumped and his feet dragging. It wasn’t that he was opposed to parasailing. In fact, he was somewhat looking forward to it. He’d never done it before, but he liked heights and he liked adrenaline. He wasn’t exactly a fan of water, but that could be overlooked.

So yeah, despite his outward appearance, he was looking forward to it. He just… had a lot on his mind, and that weight was keeping him from being able to fully express or even feel his own enthusiasm.

That is, until he saw a familiar mop of messy auburn hair.

“Pidge,” He breathed, a wide grin overtaking his face.

She stood on the dock ahead of them, looking down at her phone, expression twisted into a frown. There was no way she could have heard him, but she turned at that exact moment, bright amber eyes flickering between Shiro and Allura before settling on him. A matching grin spread her lips. “About time!” She said, tucking her phone away as she rushed to greet them. “I was starting to think you were gonna bail.”

She ran headlong into Shiro, nearly knocking him off balance. Shiro laughed, wrapping her up in a hug. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He said, smiling. “It’s good to see you again, Pidge.” Warmth radiated from his features.

Pidge pulled back a fraction, grinning up at him, voice soft and sincere as she spoke, “Yeah, you, too.”

“Mind if I cut in?” Allura asked, smiling teasing as she held out her arms.

Pidge promptly disentangled herself from Shiro and threw herself at Allura. Allura caught her, wrapping her up and lifting her off her feet to spin them both around. By the time she set her back down, they were both laughing.

“It’s so good to see you after so long! We’ve missed you.”

“It’s not the same without you around.” Shiro added.

Pidge pulled back from Allura’s embrace. “I hope Matt’s been causing twice as much trouble to make up for my absence.”

“He certainly tries.” Shiro said, crossing his arms over his chest, voice warm with fond amusement. “But he’s not nearly as crafty.”

“We’ll have to work on that.” Pidge’s eyes flickered to Keith, smile widening. She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one hip. “Well, well, well, look what the pseudo-dad dragged in.”

“I’m not a dad.” Shiro mumbled, frowning.

They both ignored him.

Keith held out his arms. “You gonna hug me or not?”

Pidge tapped her chin, looking thoughtful. “I dunno… You haven’t talked to me much in the past few months.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t talked to me either.”

Pidge tried to hold her face steady, but he saw the corners of her lips twitching. “Fair point.”

And that was all it took before she was pushing forward, wrapping her arms tight around his waist and burying her face in his chest. He chuckled, squeezing her back as he rested his cheek atop her head. Her hair tickled his nose. He hadn’t realized just how much he had missed her. She had been his closest friend for years and an important pillar in his life. He hadn’t realized just how much his foundation had crumbled in her absence.

“Missed you, short stuff.” He mumbled.

“Careful, hotshot, your gay is showing.” She muttered, voice muffled by his shirt.

“Takes one to know one, poindexter.”

She snorted. “Sick comeback, you soggy fruit loop.” She pulled back, grinning up at him. The only warning he got was the glinting in her eyes and the mischievous tilt to her lips before she reared back and punched him in the arm.

“Hey!” It hadn’t really hurt, but he stepped back and rubbed his arm anyway, glaring at her.

She smirked. “That’s for ignoring me for months.”

“ _You’re_ just as bad about communication as I am!”

“What’re you gonna do?” She said, voice taunting as she stepped backwards. She clasped her hands in front of her, batting her eyelashes innocently as her lips curved into a mocking smile. “You wouldn’t hit a girl, would you?”

He snorted. “You bet I would.”

He only got two steps before Shiro’s hand fell on his shoulder, pulling him to a halt. “Cool it, Keith.”

Pidge chuckled.

He narrowed his eyes at his brother, scowl bordering on a pout. “Shiro—“

He shot his head, amusement dancing in the depths of his eyes. “Not while she’s on the clock. You can hit her after work.”

“Hey!”

“Deal.”

Shiro patted his shoulder, turning back to Pidge. “Speaking of…”

“Right, follow me.” Pidge spun on her heel and started back toward dock twenty-seven, where a boat bobbed idly in the water.

As they neared, Keith could see two people standing aboard, struggling with the large rainbow parachute. Well, one was struggling with it, the other was sitting in the driver’s seat, mostly obscured by the colorful fabric.

“You guys are lucky,” Pidge was saying. “You’re our only reservations for this time slot, so you get a private ride _and_ we can let you stay up in the air for longer.” She stopped as she reached the boat, standing on the edge of the dock with her arms crossed over her chest. “You gonna stay aboard, Hunk?” She said, a small, teasing smile on her lips. “You can drive for me if you want.”

The guy struggling with the parachute, a big dude with dark skin and a bright orange headband wrapped around his forehead, stood up straight, whipping around and holding up his hands, promptly dropping the parachute fabric. “Nope! No, no, nonono, nope, not gonna happen. I don’t think so. I was just—“ He struggled to step around the fabric at his feet. “Helping Lance—“ He ducked around the ropes with surprising dexterity. “Set up.” He stepped off the boat and onto the dock, letting out a small sigh of relief. “I’m already starting to feel queasy.” He said with a joking lilt to his voice, rubbing his stomach.

“Just don’t puke on the boat.” Pidge gestured to the three of them. “Hunk, these are my friends I was telling you about. Shiro, Allura, and Keith.”

As if just noticing they were there, he straightened, smiling in a way that was entirely genuine and lacking any falseness of customer service. His face was wide and honest, eyes warm and smile friendly. “Hey! Nice to finally meet you guys! I’m Hunk.” He strode forward, shaking each of their hands in turn. His grip was firm and yet oddly gentle.

“if the formalities are over, let’s get going.” Pidge leapt onto the boat, carefully picking her way over the folded parachute that lay on the raised rear deck before stopping behind the driver’s seat. She stood with her hands on her hips, nudging the guy there with her shoe. “Move it, I’m driving.”

“But you always drive!”

“You’re better with the parasail.”

There was a hummed response. “True. I’m also more charming with the customers.”

“Let’s not get carried away. Now move it.”

He begrudgingly stood, spinning around to face them as they climbed onto the boat and moved toward the seats along the front. Keith froze mid step, eyes widening a fraction as he took the guy in. Light brown skin, darker short hair, blinding smile, bright blue eyes. He was pretty certain that he had never seen this guy before in his life, yet he couldn’t stop the nagging feeling of familiarity as he looked him over.

“Guys, this is—“

“Name’s Lance,” He drawled, cutting off Pidge and reaching out a hand to Shiro. His smirk was cocky, and that did nothing to lessen the sensation that he was missing something.

Shiro took it, smiling kindly. “Shiro. And this is my fiancé, Allura, and my brother, Keith.”

Lance’s attention slid to Allura, holding out a hand to her. “Nice to meet you, princess.” He practically purred. Keith cringed.

Allura cocked an eyebrow, the shadow of a smile that was vaguely amused but not quite flattered on her lips as she took his hand. From the way Lance winced, Keith was willing to bet Allura gave his hand a tight warning squeeze. “Charmed.”

“Glad to hear it.” Lance said, managing to sound amused, honest, and just a little bit pained.

Then he turned to Keith. He felt trapped under that startlingly blue gaze. “And Keith, right?”

Keith nodded, automatically taking the hand that was offered. His skin was… surprisingly soft, despite the firm grip.

“Pidge, you didn’t tell me you had such attractive friends.” He said, almost offhandedly as he gave Keith an appreciative once over. It was an obvious gesture, with no effort to hide it, and Keith felt himself tense under his gaze. When his eyes met Keith’s again, he winked—

And recognition shot through him like a wave of ice, cooling the heat that had started to rise to his face. Keith gaped at him, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. “You’re the River Man.”

Everyone seemed to freeze around them, and the air became thick in his lungs when he realized he had said that out loud. Time ticked by, slow and sluggish, with only the sounds of waves lapping against the boat to break the silence. Lance’s smile faded to surprised confusion. He blinked blankly, one eyebrow raised. “The River Man?”

He could definitely feel his face heating up now. He stared, eyes wide in horror and lips pursed tight. He scrambled to find a response, to make his mouth move and _say_ something, but luckily he didn’t have to. Shiro saved him.

He cleared his throat, drawing Lance’s attention away from Keith long enough to let him breathe. “We, uh, saw someone swimming in the river yesterday by the hot spring. He swam across and then walked around the bend, and we didn’t see him come back.” He scratched his chin sheepishly, looking to Allura for help.

“We called him the River man and made up stories and legends about him.” She said, not at all abashed as she turned back to Lance. “Was that you?”

Lance was smiling again, but it wasn’t mocking or strained as Keith had feared. He looked genuinely amused. “Yeah, that was probably me. I like to swim there from time to time.” He shrugged. “It’s good practice. Then I usually float down river to the campgrounds where Hunk picks me up.” He grinned, nodding his head slightly. “River Man, huh? I like the sound of that.”

They were all smiling now. Everyone but Keith, who was still fighting off the lump that had formed in his throat.

“We even have a specific way of saying it.” Allura added, eyes sparkling.

Lance’s brows rose. “Do tell.”

She shared a look with Shiro, and they sing-singed together, “ _River MaaAAN!_ ”

Lance threw back his head and laughed, the sound making Keith’s stomach clench and his heart stutter. “Oh my _god!_ That’s amazing!” He half turned. “Hear that Pidge? I’m famous!”

“Yeah, yeah, why don’t you let them sit down so we can get going, River Man?”

It was only then that they realized they were still holding hands.

They both stared for a long, agonizing second before Keith snatched his hand back, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away, but not before catching sight of Lance’s amused smile and the playful tilt of his head.

He could hear Shiro chuckling under his breath.

 

* * *

 

Keith tried his best to ignore Lance. He really did. But he was fighting a losing battle. He was like the lone flame in a world of moths, irresistible and infuriatingly beautiful. His easy smile, crinkling eyes, fluid gestures, confident demeanor, heartfelt laugh, calm voice. The way he moved around the boat as it rocked and bounced on the waves while Pidge sped forward, graceful and barefoot, body rolling with each movement like he was made for it. It drew Keith in and refused to let him go.

Even as Pidge gave the mandatory safety speech, Keith couldn’t help but watch lance, standing next to her and gesturing along with lazy, practiced motions and a mischievous smile. Whenever he caught Keith staring, something about that smile would shift, enough to make his blood boil and his irritation flair. He glared, closing his arms over his chest and sinking lower in his seat. But it never seemed to discourage Lance. He would just chuckle under his breathe, the sound which was lost to the wind but the sight was enough to draw him in all over again.

“So you guys are from the states, right?” Lance asked, leaning against the railing that ran down the middle of the boat. “Pidge said she knows you through her brother?”

Keith was listening, but he was turned away, facing forward and feeling the wind whipping through his hair, stinging his cheeks as the boat road the waves. He relished in it. It was comforting, and not entirely unlike the sensation he got when riding his bike.

“Yeah, Matt’s been my best friend for years.” Shiro leaned back in his seat, left arm spread out on the boat’s rim while his prosthetic rested in his lap. “We met Pidge through him, and she and Keith hit it off right away.”

“Little siblings gotta stick together.” Pidge said from behind the boat’s wheel. “Especially with you two nerds as brothers.”

“You guys are here for the ironman, right?” Lance asked, and there was a brief pause where Keith assumed someone nodded because he went on, “Are you all participating?”

“Not this time,” Allura said, smile clear in her voice. “It’s just Shiro and Keith this time.”

“No way! You’re doing it, too?”

At the brief pause, Keith turned his head, heart rate speeding up just a fraction when he saw Lance was staring at him, leaning over to rest his forearms on the railing. His smile was small and easy, expression open and expectant.

Keith gave him a small nod. “Yeah.”

“That’s really awesome, dude. I’m impressed.” And there was something soft in his voice that made Keith have to look away.

Clearing his throat, he muttered a quiet, “Thanks.” He appreciated the cold bite of the wind on his face.

“So is it your first ironman races?”

“This will be my fourth full.” Shiro answered, taking the attention off of Keith, for which he was grateful. “Allura’s done six full races, but she’s sitting this one out. It’s Keith’s first full, but he’s done several halves.”

Lance let out a low whistle. “Dang, and here I thought _I_ was in shape.”

Keith tried not to think about the definition of his forearms, or the coiled muscles of his long, long legs, exposed by the shorts the cut off halfway up his thigh. Or his broad shoulders and lean back that he had seen yesterday in the river.

“What brings you here, Lance?” Allura asked, cutting through Keith’s internal struggle. “I hope this doesn’t sound rude, but you don’t seem to have much of a New Zealand accent. Did you study abroad here like Pidge did?”

Lance chuckled. “Nah, not rude at all. No worries. Me and Hunk are from the states. We came here around the end of November and just kinda wandered around for the first few months. We met Pidge along the way. She was out traveling after the semester ended, and we all kinda just clicked, so we whisked her away into our adventures.” There was a brief pause in which Pidge snorted her amusement. Then Lance’s tone turned sheepish, and Keith glanced back in time to see him rubbing the back of his neck. “Then we kinda ran out of money, so we got a job. And here we are.” He finishes, throwing his arms out wide to gesture around the boat.

“Sounds exciting.” Allura said.

“Yeah, it’s been fun.” Lance said, leaning back against the railing.

“It’s been alright.” Pidge shrugged, smiling wide when Lance shoved her.

“We almost ready, P?”

Pidge turned her head, looking out over the lake. Her brows were knit slightly, lips pursed in thought. “I wanna get a little further away from shore.” Her eyes flickered upward. “The wind isn’t very favorable today…”

“What’re you thinking?”

“Twos?”

He shrugged offhandedly. “Works for me.”

“Alright, guys,” Pidge said, a little louder as she addressed there rest of them. “Because of the wind, we’re gonna send you up in twos instead of as three. It’ll be easier to control your flight that way. I assume Shiro and Allura will want to go together. We’ll send you guys up first. Then Keith—“

“I can go with him.” Lance cut off whatever Pidge was about to suggest.

Keith’s eyes snapped to him. Lance was holding onto the railing with one hand, other hand on his hip. His eyes were half lidded, but sparking with something Keith couldn’t quite name. Shiro and Allura seemed just as surprised, but he could practically _feel_ Shiro’s shit eating grin forming.

It was Pidge who broke the silence. “Lance—“

He waved her off. “It’ll be fine. It’s just us. You won’t need my help once we’re up in the air, and I can direct our landing from up there anyway.”

Pidge made a face, but shrugged. “I guess. If it’s fine with Keith…”

He felt all eyes turn to him, and his cheeks felt warm under all the attention. Lance’s lips were curve into a confident smirk, but there was something uncertain in his eyes, in the stiffness of his posture, in the tight grip his hand had on the railing. Something… hopefully expectant.

Keith frowned and turned away, but found himself saying, “It’s whatever. I don’t mind.”

His eyes remained fixed on the water ahead of them, but he could hear the smile in Lance’s voice as he breathed. “Awesome,” And then a little louder, clapping his hands together. “Alright, let’s get you two suited up.”

Keith watched out of his peripheral vision as Lance set up Shiro and Allura in their harnesses and life jackets, fitting them with helmets. He made smalltalk as he did so, babbling on and drawing them both into conversation. When they were ready, he hopped back to the upper deck, balancing easily on bare feet. Pidge set the boat to cruise before climbing up next to him. They grabbed at the colorful fabric, and Lance checked the ropes quickly, sending Keith a small smile and a barely perceivable wink when he caught him looking.

Then, with a flourish that Keith was starting to associate with Lance, the two of them threw up the parasail. It caught the wind and expanded open, throwing up it’s colors wide as it took to the air behind the boat, pulling the ropes taut.

Pidge returned to her seat, and Lance grabbed at the bar-like harness, one hand on his hip as he turned back to Shiro and Allura. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road. One at a time, if you please.” He said, gesturing for them to join him. He hooked their harnesses up to the clips on the bar, then gestured for them to sit down. “Just sit— just like that.” He checked their harnesses, making sure the straps went under their thighs. “Alright, knees up, lean back, yup, now just wait, and you’ll be airborne in just a few seconds.”

He slipped back away from them, scooting down from the upper deck as Pidge sped up. Slowly, the ropes began to give, the parasail pulling them further from the boat, and taking Shiro and Allura with it. Shiro tensed as they lifted from the boat, and Keith caught sight of the pinched look on his face. His face cracked into a wide grin as Allura laughed, patting his arm as they lifted into the air.

Keith watched the slow but steady progress as they rose through the air, soon getting high enough that he could no longer see details of their features.

“How high up are they?” He asked, chin tilted back to look up at them. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the whipping strands away from his face.

“About eight hundred meters.” Pidge replied.

Keith made a face, and Lance laughed. “About two thousand, six hundred, twenty-four feet, give or take.” Keith just stared at him, caught off guard. He shrugged, smile cocky. “You get used to converting units.”

Keith slid his uncertain gaze to Pidge, who shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know how he does it. He’s just good at converting numbers.”

Lance was preening from the praise. “It’s a gift.” He threw himself down onto the seat next to Keith, leaning back and stretching his arms out along the back of it, crossing his legs casually. “So how’s your stay been so far?” His tone was nothing short of conversational, but Keith shifted, unable to meet his eyes with him so close. He wished Shiro and Allura were back in the boat.

“We just got here a couple days ago.” He internally winced when his voice came out a little harder and sharper than intended.

Lance didn’t seem discouraged. “Have you guys done anything touristy?”

Keith shrugged. “We went to Hobbiton on the way down here.” He frowned them, arms crossed and sinking lower in his seat. He ignored how the movement pushed his back against Lance’s arm. He could feel the warmth of it through his shirt, a pleasant contrast against the chill of the wind. “Shiro made me and Allura pose in front of all the Hobbit doors because we’re shorter than him.”

Lance snorted in surprise, the sound devolving into a full out laugh. One hand slapped at his leg, but the other stayed firmly fixed behind Keith’s back. “Oh, _man_ , that’s great! Me and Hunk did that to Pidge when we went there! They were the most disgruntled little hobbit gremlin. It was amazing.”

Keith snorted a short laugh, unable to stop the smile that formed. Pidge was scowling. “Still not funny.”

“I have photographic evidence to prove that it was hilarious.” Lance teased.

“I need to see those sometime.”

Lance looked at him then, expression a strange mix of mischievous and soft. “That can probably be arranged.”

There was an odd promise in that statement, one that Keith couldn’t think too hard about without feeling an unwanted flutter in his chest.

He wasn’t sure how long Shiro and Allura were up in the air, but it felt like ages. Not that he minded. In that time, he talked with Lance and Pidge. Lance’s overtly flirtatious attitude seemed to calm with just the three of them, and Keith found himself finally able to relax. Keith told him about some of the halves he’d raced, and Lance told him of his swim meets and surfing competitions. He told Lance how he had taken a couple years off of school and was still debating whether or not to go back, and Lance told him how he graduated but has spent the last few months traveling. Keith learned that Lance had a big family back home, and that he skyped them as often as he could. He learned that Hunk was his best friend from college, and that it had taken a lot of convincing to get him to come along. He learned that Pidge hadn’t been ready to leave after the semester ended, and that she had met up with Lance and Hunk at a camp ground not too far out of the city where she studied.

He learned that Lance like cider but not beer. Lance learned he was lactose intolerant and hated overly sweet drinks. He learned Lance loved tequila, and Lance learned Keith couldn’t handle it. He learned they both loved to stargaze and both had dreams to fly. He learned Lance was good at darts, and Lance learned he was good at card games. He learned Lance knew how to knit, and Keith admitted he liked to sculpt and paint.

The whole time, Pidge drive the boat back and forth across the lake, dragging Shiro and Allura around behind them. Keith watched the small dots of his family beneath the rainbow fabric. He watched the waves of the lake, kicked up by the wind. He watched the other boats in the distance and the shoreline. But mostly, he watched Lance. Watched the way he smiled, watched the way his eye and nose crinkled, watched the way his lip curled. He noticed the recall at the corner of his eye, the way his hair stuck up with the wind, the chickenpox scar on his jaw, the half moon scar on the bridge of his nose, that his ears were pierced.

He hadn’t realized how much they had dominated the conversation until Pidge cleared her throat, drawing their attention back to her. They were sitting close, and Keith blamed the chill of the wind and the warmth of Lance’s arm. They leaned away from each other under Pidge’s watchful stare, but she said nothing about it. Instead, she smirked. “Wanna see me dunk the love birds?”

And so they watched in amusement, encouraging Pidge as the boat slowed. She kept her eyes on the parasail behind them, hand stead on the gas. She slowed steadily, keeping the rope taut as the sail lowered. She however them close to the water’s surface, frowning at the wind. Just as she started to drop them, the wind picked up and shot them up several feet. Pidge cursed. They could see Shiro’s legs kick in agitation. Allura laughed.

“You got this, Pidge!” Lance said.

“It wouldn’t be a bad thing if you dunked them.” Keith added. Lance laughed, nudging him with his shoulder.

Pidge tried again, letting the sail drop, their legs dragged through the water, nearly up to their knees, and then Pidge hit the gas, speeding up and causing the parasail to shoot back skyward. She was grinning, and Lance cheered.

“Nice one, P!”

Pidge adjusted her glasses, smirking. “Calculated.” She checked the time on her phone. “You two should start getting ready. I’m gonna bring them down soon.”

Lance pushed himself to his feet. Keith’s back felt cold. He gave Pidge a small salute. “Roger that.” He guided Keith through the process of stepping into his harness, having him sit down so he could begin tightening the straps. Keith tried to ignore his proximity, his hands brushing against him. He stared out at the lake to avoid looking at him.

Then suddenly there were fingers in his hair. Keith jumped, head whipping around to stare at Lance, startled as the other gathered his hair up at the back of his head. Blue eyes stared at their critically, and Keith felt his mouth go dry. He didn’t know what was going on, but Lance was so close, hands in his hair. He wouldn’t mind if he gave it a tug—

Lance’s face broke out into a wide grin, eyes crinkling. “You’re Pretty Ponytail!”

Keith blinked. “What?”

“The guy at the lake this morning! In the wetsuit? Everyone else was wearing swim caps, but you had your hair in a ponytail.”

The flicker of a memory. Standing in the lake, apprehensive about wading out. Water cold despite his skintight wetsuit. Watching Shiro swim away. Trying to gather himself. Hearing a whistle. An unfamiliar voice, _Hey, beautiful!_ A tanned boy on the hillside by the shore, waving. Spark of irritation. Determination. Powering him through as he cut through the water.

Keith blinked again, lips twisting into a small frown as his brows furrowed. “That was you?”

At the look on his face, Lance coughed, letting go of Keith’s hair as he stepped back, grabbing a helmet from beneath the boat seats. “Maybe…” He said, lacking the confidence he had come to associate with Lance. He looked sheepish as he handed Keith the helmet, avoiding his eyes as he busied himself with putting on his own harness.

As the ropes started to retract and Shiro and Allura were brought down, Keith kicked off his shoes and socks, storing them next to the others. He watched as Lance guided Shiro and Allura through the landing, catching them as their feet landed on the back of the boat, keeping them from falling. He steadied them before unclipping their harnesses, directing them back down to the seats. With a smile, he gestured for Keith to join him. He did, and Lance hooked his harness in before he did his own. He walked him through the procedure that he had seen Shiro and Allura do: sitting down, holding the harness, knees up.

His heart pounded as he heard Pidge speed up, the sound of the boat motor and the lapping of the waves loud in his ears. He felt the tug, the lift, the harness catch beneath him, and then he was floating back and up, away from the boat. Allura waved, and Shiro had his phone out to take pictures. Keith flipped him off, and he saw his brother laugh before they were too high to see much of anything on the boat anymore. It didn’t take long for them to reach the end of the rope.

“So…?” Lance said, soft soft. Keith startled, nearly forgetting he was there. Lance smiled, kicking his feet in the open air. “What’d you think?”

Keith looked away from him, gaze sweeping out across the lake, so far below them that it looked like a dark blue, textured plain. The shoreline was dotted with buildings that lacked definition, the buoys near the shore barely perceivable dots. The hills that he had come to associate with New Zealand rolled away from the town, curving upward into mountains. One loomed behind the town, green and rolling surface dotted with trees. The lake stretched far out on the other side, snowcapped mountains rising in the distance. He hadn’t been able to see them before due to clouds, but it was a clear day and they rose in stoic beauty.

It was quiet up here, far more so than he was expecting. The rush of waves against the boat, the hum of the motor, the rush of the wind, it was all practically non existent. Despite the speed of the boat below them, up here, it was a slow and smooth ride. “It’s… peaceful.”

He turned in time to see the soft look on Lance’s face. “Right?”

Up here, it felt like they were far away from anything worldly. Their worries, their frustrations, their jobs. Everything and everyone was left far below, dimmed and lost along with the noise. Up here, high above the world with nothing but the rainbow parasail above them and the view before them, he was alone and at peace. Just him and the gorgeous boy next to him, feet dangling in open air, voices afraid to be above a whisper lest the moment might shatter.

He liked heights and adrenaline, and from a distance, he had expected this to be a more exciting activity. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this though, this break away from everything. This moment of stillness. This moment to breathe.

“See those mountains?” Lance said, breaking the silence. Keith hadn’t realized he was staring at the distance, snow-capped peaks until Lance leaned closer to him, pointing them out in his line of sight.

“Yeah?”

“See the one on the right? The skinnier one?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s Mount Doom. From the Lord of the Rings movies.”

“No way.” Keith looked at him, eyebrows raised. Lance’s smile didn’t falter. “Really?”

Lance laughed. “Yeah, dude! It’s still an active volcano. Well, actually, they’re both part of the same volcano. One volcano, two cones, you know? But the one on the left there is closed off from the magma chamber, so it’s pretty much dead. The other one is still technically active, and it’s totally Mount Doom.”

Keith found himself smiling. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah! We hiked it a few weeks ago. Took forever cause, well, Hunk isn’t much of a hiker, but it was so worth it. Ten outta ten, recommend. You should totally go.”

Keith made a face, nose crinkling as his brows furrowed. His smile faded. “I’ll mention it, but…” He sighed, looking away, down at the boat far below them. “Shiro has this very strict taper policy.”

“Taper policy?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah, once our training tapers out before a race, we’re not supposed to do anything too physically intensive. Save it for the race, or whatever.”

Lance hummed thoughtfully. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“Yeah, it does, but I hate it.” He frowned. “I don’t like… _not_ being able to run, or bike, or whatever. Just… sitting around drives me crazy. I don’t like it. Makes me feel like I have an itch under my skin, you know? Restless…”

“Yeah, I get it.” Lance’s voice was soft, and when Keith glanced at him, his expression was kind. Keith got the impression that he really did get it. It… made him feel a little better. “So hey, do you have any plans?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Plans?”

“Yeah, like, stuff you guys are gonna do while you’re here? The race isn’t till the weekend, right?”

Keith shrugged, eyes drawn out to the distant hills. “I dunno. I was just going to do whatever Shiro and Allura dragged me along to. I’m not sure if they have anything planned.”

“I’ll have to think of a few non-exercise things for you to do.” Keith glanced at him, but Lance was looking away, fingers idly tapping at the harness straps where his hands rested. “You know, to help you get your mind off the restlessness and everything.”

Keith felt the corners of his lips curve into the barest of smiles. “Thanks.”

As it turned out, talking with Lance was surprisingly easy, especially now that they were alone. It was like the social and flirtatious front he put up was peeled back, revealing someone who was still equally as excitable and enthusiastic but a hell of a lot more real. And… Keith hated to admit it, but equally as charming. They didn’t talk about anything in particular, and afterwards Keith wouldn’t be able to remember anything that was said, but he would be stuck with the impression that he had enjoyed it nonetheless. That talking with Lance had felt natural and unstrained, pleasing and surprisingly adding to the peaceful atmosphere of their flight.

He would remember that he smiled more in that time than he had in weeks, maybe even months. His cheeks ached with it.

When Pidge lowered them to drag their legs through the water, Keith watched with growing apprehension as the surface of the lake neared. Lance assured him it was no big deal, that they did this all the time, but even his voice grew strained as the wind tugged at the parasail and the water came up fast.

Pidge ended up slamming them into the lake, sinking to their waists before they were pulled back up. Shivering, soaked, and stunned, Keith couldn’t help but laugh as Lance broke out in rapid fire Spanish, cursing and gesturing wildly to a Pidge who no doubt couldn’t hear him. He paused in his rant long enough to stare at Keith, wide eyed and slack jawed, before launching into it all over again. Keith couldn’t understand a word he said, but he was expressive enough, and once Keith’s deep bellied laugh got going, he couldn’t stop.

By the time he calmed down, Lance was smiling, small and earnest as he said, “You have a cute smile.”

Keith wished there was more of a wind up here to cool off the blush he felt raging up his cheeks.

When they finally landed back on the boat, he stumbled, only to have Lance’s arm wrap around his waist to steady him. He stiffened at the contact, but didn’t pull away.

He ignored his Shiro’s growing smirk and flipped off the camera when he raised his phone.

 

* * *

 

When Lance was eleven, he really wanted to play baseball.

He was already playing soccer, and each of his siblings also had extra curricular activities. His mom told him no, but he begged and pleaded and pouted and whined until his parents relented. He was halfway through the season when he realized how tired his mom looked. Both his parents worked on top of driving him and his siblings to all of their activities. None of them were old enough to drive yet. He saw the exhaustion around her eyes, weighing down her kind, gentle smile. She never told him, but he could feel it.

He quit baseball and only stuck to soccer because he and his brother had practice at the same time on the same field.

He started helping his mom do more chores and convinced his siblings to help him make her breakfast in bed.

It was then that he learned that it wasn’t always about his own happiness.

 

* * *

 

“Pidge, why didn’t you _tell_ me that your friends were hot?” Lance whined, feet dragging against the pavement.

Pidge made a face. “He’s not _hot_. He’s _Keith_.”

Lance narrowed his eyes at her, lips pursing in a small frown. “And _Keith_ is _hot_.”

Pidge shrugged, using the movement to hike her bag up higher on her shoulder. “I never noticed.”

“Keith is the guy that Lance catcalled this morning.” Hunk supplied.

Pidge raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Hunk nodded. “Yeah, the guy had his hair in a ponytail, and after they left, he grabbed me and said, ‘Hunk! Hunk! It’s Pretty Ponytail guy! It’s him! He’s even cuter up close!’”

Lance snorted, rolling his eyes as he straightened. “Okay, for one, I don’t sound like that. For two, yes, I’m sure, Pidge. I never forget a pretty face.”

Pidge snorted, but chose not to comment. Lance was grateful for that.

“The point _is_ , you should have _warned_ me.”

“I didn’t really think it was necessary. Besides, you handled it well enough.”

Hunk raised an eyebrow, expression skeptical. “Did he? Because I know how he gets, and Keith could barely look at him when you guys got back.”

Pidge waved him off. “Yeah, but that’s just Keith. Lance got him to _smile_. And laugh, for that matter. That says something.”

Lance perked up at that. “It does?”

Pidge nodded, pulling out her phone. “I know Keith, and trust me, if he was annoyed with you, you’d know it.”

Lance’s smile faded for a moment, lines creasing between his brows. “Are you sure? Cause, I mean, yeah, I’m charming as hell and who wouldn’t want me, right? And yeah, he was smiling, but… Hunk has a point. He would barely look at me before they left. That’s not usually a good sign.” He looked to Hunk for support, but the big guy just shrugged.

Pidge snorted, not looking up from her phone. “That’s not annoyed Keith. That’s embarrassed Keith. Odds are he thinks you’re cute.”

Well that brightened him right the fuck up. The grin that spread his lips was so wide, it ached in his cheeks. “Really?”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

His grin curled into something more cocky, one eyebrow raising as he put one hand to his hip, gesturing to himself with the other. “I mean, who could blame him? Who could resist all of _this_?”

“Statistically? A lot of people.” Pidge said dryly.

“Ouch.”

“Truth hurts.”

“You’re a rude little gremlin.”

“I think you’re irresistible, buddy.”

“Thanks, Hunk. That’s why you’re my fav for life.”

“Awww, Lance, you’re my fav, too.”

“Bro.”

“ _Bro_.”

“Could you guys stop being gay for like two seconds so we can figure out what to do for dinner?”

Hunk hummed thoughtfully. “Take out and cheap beer?”

Lance stretched his arms over his head, groaning pleasantly. “A classic, sounds good to me.”

Pidge shrugged. “I’m down.”

They steered their course toward town, leaving the docks behind and heading toward the main strip. They were across the street from all the busy restaurants, all the ones that were filling up quick as tourists and athletes poured into town. Hunk and Pidge were deciding where to go, debating the pros of each, but Lance tuned them out. He didn’t really care. He’d eat anywhere.

His gaze roamed the crowds, and he didn’t realize what he was looking for until he saw a familiar mop of dark hair.

He froze mid step, breath catching in his lungs as he did a double take. Yes, there, sitting outside one of the restaurants. _Keith_. Keith and his messy, wind swept hair, just a hair too long in the back but curling against the nap of his neck in the cutest of ways. Keith and his pouty lips, pressed into a frown. Keith and his thick brows, furrowed as he scowled across the table at his brother and Allura. He was sunk low in his chair, one arm crossed over his chest while his other hand idly stroked up and down his beer glass. Pale, long fingers, roughened with callouses…

“Lance?”

“What’s up, buddy?”

He glanced at his friends, seeing them both stopped a few steps away and half turned to look at him with mirrored expressions of confusion.

He looked back to the tables across the street, eyes instantly finding him. “There’s Keith,” He said, trying and probably failing to sound nonchalant. Then, as an afterthought, “And Shiro and Allura.”

They followed his gaze, both of them making sounds of acknowledgement.

“So it is. Wanna go say hi?” Pidge asked, a playful edge to her voice.

“What?” Lance whipped around to gap at her. “ _No_. I mean… yes? Can we even do that? Would that be weird?”

Pidge rolled their eyes so hard, their body moved with it. “I’ve known them for years, Lance. Of course it wouldn’t be weird.”

“Yeah, but for _me_?”

“With how hard you flirted with Keith, I’m not sure they’d be surprised.”

“Hey!”

“You know,” Hunk said, drawing both of their attention. He scratched the back of his neck, eyes flickering between them. “Lance’s crush aside—“

“It’s not a crush!”

“They _did_ seem like pretty cool people. And like you said, Pidge: they’ve been your friends for years. Maybe we should do something with them? Like invite them out somewhere? Show them around New Zealand?”

Lance made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and tried to cover it up with a cough. He couldn’t tell if Hunk was wingmanning him or just being honest, but either way, he was down. He was _so_ down. Spending more time with Handsome McMullet? Sign him the fuck up.

“That’s not a bad idea.” Pidge said, then send a wicked grin toward Lance and pinning him with her sharp, amber gaze. “If Lance can keep it in his pants.”

“Excuse!”

“What’d you think we should do with them? Sounds like they haven’t really had time to do much.” Hunk scratched his chin thoughtfully, rubbing against the stubble that was growing there.

Pidge shrugged. “I dunno. I haven’t gotten a chance to ask what they’d be interested in.”

“Keith said Shiro has a strict low exercise policy before races, so any of the hiking options are out. Which, might I add, sucks, because it’s gorgeous around here.” The two of them hummed their agreement, and they lapsed into silence.

Lance crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his weight to one hip. He watched Keith, watched Shiro lean back in his chair and laugh, watched Allura lean across the table with a smirk, watched Keith shift uncomfortably in his seat. What would be fun to do with them? Probably anything, if he was being honest. But he wanted something really fun, something to get Keith to open up a little bit. Somewhere Lance could maybe show off a little, somewhere where he was sure to get Keith to smile—

He snapped his fingers. “Rotorua!”

“Huh?”

“What?”

He turned to his friends, grinning wide as he practically bounced on the balls of his feet. “Rotorua!” He grabbed Pidge’s shoulders and shook her. “Rotorua! It’s perfect!” And before they could say anything else, Lance was diving across the street. He barely heard his friends’ exasperated sighs over the sound of the car horns, but he ducked and weaved around them, waving off angry drivers before throwing himself headlong into the maze of tables. By the time he reached their table, all three of them had heard the commotion and were staring at him with varying expressions. Keith’s mouth hung open, eyes wide. Lance slapped his hands on the table, grinning between the three of them. “Rotorua!”

Silence.

Shiro cleared his throat. “Nice to see you again, Lance.”

Allura was quick to compose herself. “What was that—?”

“Rotorua!” He turned his grin to Keith, who seemed to shrink under the weight of it. But Lance couldn’t be deterred. “We should go to Rotorua!”

“Um…”

By then, Pidge and Hunk had caught up to him. Pidge put a hand on Lance’s shoulder, shoving him to the side. “What Lance is _trying_ to say, is that you guys should come out to Skyline Rotorua with us tomorrow.”

“If, you know, you don’t have any plans.” Hunk added, poking his pointer fingers together before weaving them all together. “We just thought it might be nice to all hang out, and, well, Lance thought of Skyline, so—“

“They’ve got a gondola, and a zipline, and the sky swing, and the luge!” Lance said, making a wild gesture for each thing. He looked between the three of them, but was pleased to note that Keith’s attention stayed fixed on him. He met his eyes then, smile fading into something more calm as nervous hope burned in his chest. “What’d you say, Keith?” He… hadn’t meant for his voice to be that soft.

Luckily, it had the pleasant effect of making his collarbones flush. Boy, what he wouldn’t give to touch those collarbones. Maybe leave a few marks—

Keith turned across the table. “Shiro?”

The older man shrugged, an easy smile on his face. “I don’t see why not.”

Allura grinned, clapping her hands together. “It sounds lovely! What a great idea. I should invite Coran.”

Pidge shrugged. “Sure.”

Hunk grinned. “The more the merrier.”

Keith snuck a sheepish look at Lance through his lashes, a small smile at the corner of his lips.

Lance felt the excitement burning through his veins.

 

* * *

 

“The view is absolutely gorgeous,” Allura breathed, leaning forward in her seat on the gondola to better see the lake as they rose up the mountain. She had tried half standing to get better pictures, but was pulled back down by Shiro when the cab started rocking.

“Yeah, it is…” Lance said quietly, half turned in his seat with his arms folded over the back of it. When Keith glanced at him, their eyes met, and Lance’s smile curved a little more.

Keith looked back out the window behind them. The ride up the mountain was slow, but it gave them plenty of time to appreciate the landscape. The lake far below stretched out far, dotted with islands and bordered with small mountains, scattered with trees. The water was like glass, perfectly reflecting the sky and the clouds, glittering where the sun hit it, marred only where the boats cut across the surface.

A long slow ride for Keith to stare out across the New Zealand landscape, ignoring the press of Lance’s leg against his own, the way their arms brushed. Pidge was pressed to his other side, but it wasn’t nearly as distracting.

“Hey, turn around,” Shiro said, and Keith made the mistake of listening.

He blinked at the camera shutter sound, face morphing into a scowl. His phone remained raised, and suddenly there was an arm around his shoulders, a body leaning into his side. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lance holding up a peace sign, face pulled up in a wide grin, the smell of him filling Keith’s nose. He kept his eyes fixed on Shiro, flipping off the camera.

“We’re not going to be able to show anyone our vacation photos,” He commented mildly, smirk fixed in place.

Allura chuckled, “That’s never stopped you from showing people before. I think they’ve just come to expect it from Keith.”

“True.”

Lance’s arm fell away, returning to rest across the back of their bench seat. “Ready to get your ass kicked on the luge?” He asked, leaning back against the side of the cab. Keith glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. Lance tilted his chin down, waggling his eyebrows as he smirked. “Because we’re totally going to race.”

Keith scoffed, crossing his arms and looking away.

Pidge nudged his side with her elbow. “What’s the matter, Keith?” She teased. “It’s not like you to turn down a challenge.”

“Especially a racing one.” Shiro added.

Keith rolled his eyes to the side, tilting his head and making a show of nonchalantly looking Lance up and down. The boy made a visible effort not to squirm. Then he felt the corner of his lips quirk into a small smile. “I just think it’s cute that he thinks he can win.”

Lance made a strangled sound, and everyone laughed. He recovered quickly, though, leaning into Keith and saying in a low voice. “At least you think I’m cute.”

Keith felt a shiver run down his spine, but met Lance’s eyes steadily, a spark igniting deep in his gut. “We’ll see how cute you are when you’re eating my dust.”

Lance chuckled, the sound washing over him as fingers lifting from the back to the seat to twirl a piece of his hair. He tried not to lean into the touch. “Bring it, mullet.”

 

* * *

 

The luge, as it turned out, was a lot more fun than he had anticipated. At first glance it looked… slow, and over simplistic. The carts didn’t have much in the way of controls. Just a plastic seat with wheels and a place to wedge his feet. The handle bars steered, and he broke by pulled the handle back towards him, letting it go forward to release the brake and move again. The speed was nothing but gravity pulling them down the mountain.

They did the scenic route first. For them to “get the hang of it so I can kick your ass fair and square”, as Lance put it. He had to admit, it was pretty. The concrete path took them down the mountain in twists and turns through forested undergrowth and nice views. The problem was that it was far too slow. Not enough steep hills and far too many turns to really build up speed. Still, they had fun, going down the mountain in a line.

When they got to the bottom, he realized that they would have to go back up via chairlift. A chairlift that only fit two people per seat. His heart skipped a beat before pounding painfully at the sight of it, and he hated it. He hated that the reaction was instant, without his control. He hated that his eyes were inexplicably drawn to Lance. He hated that the boy smirked, bumping him with his hip as he passed with a offhanded, “ready to get your ass kicked?” He hated that he smiled, saying back with ease, “you wish.”

He hated that he didn’t hate it at all when Lance stepped out for the chairlift and gestured for him to go with. He hated that he didn’t hate it at all when the chair picked them up and their thighs brushed, knees knocking together. He hated that he didn’t hate it at all that he was stuck alone with Lance on the slowest chairlift known to man up a mountain that was much higher than he remembered.

He expected conversation to be awkward, but it was like that setting didn’t exist with Lance. He filled it easily, drawing Keith into responding and not minding at all when he couldn’t carry the conversation on his own. They made comments on the people on the luge beneath them, talked about the mountain bikers they saw, listened while Lance pointed out local fauna, made up stories about the few fallen helmets and shoes on the ground.

Before he knew it, they were at the top and scrambling off the chairlift, headed town the path toward the start to go again.

He was ready to go straight for the advanced track, but Shiro insisted they try them all. So they went down the intermediate track next. Coran led the charge, going fast but taking the turns too wide and lifting half his cart. Allura followed, close on Coran’s heels and driving with precision. Shiro followed after, keeping pace with the two of them.

Next came Pidge, small and unable to gather as much momentum from weight, but light enough to avoid breaking too much. Hunk hugged his breaks, often taking turns too wide and hitting the edges of the track. Then Lance, waiting until there was a good amount of space between them and the others so he had room to go fast. He often shot looks over his shoulder, smile wide and cocky, daring Keith to keep up. He did, following close on Lance’s heels, cutting corners sharply to keep up.

At the bottom, Keith stepped into line to take the chairlift with Lance without question.

“Alright, so with the package we bought, we have three more trips down, right?” Lance said when they were about halfway up. Keith hummed, glancing sideways at him, feet idly kicking the air beneath them. Lance’s grin was bright and mischievous. “So I’m thinking we take the advanced route those three times—“

“Obviously.”

“—And best two out of three. Loser has to buy the winner a beer when we get back to town.”

There was that painful pounding in his chest again, the feeling of odd weightlessness that felt like his stomach was dropping away from him. Keith kept his eyes on the ground below them, feigning interest in the trees. “We go down one at a time. Someone is going to have the advantage.”

Lance hummed, hands idly tapping against the safety bar in a rhythm Keith couldn’t name. “True, true… does that mean you’re afraid to lose?” Keith narrowed his eyes at him, and Lance’s smile only widened. “I’ll even let you go first two times.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “That desperate to lose?”

Lance snorted, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the bar. “Maybe,” He hummed, looking straight ahead, chin tilted to gaze up the mountain. “Or maybe I’m confident in my ability to overtake you on the course.” He tilted his head then, gazing at Keith sideways, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Or maybe I just want to buy you a drink.”

He really hoped the hitch in his breathe wasn’t audible.

“Keith!”

Both their heads snapped up. He hadn’t realized how close they had been sitting, and they leaned away from each other as they looked up at Shiro on the chairlift in front of them. He was half turned to look back at them, other hand holding his phone up high above him.

“Pidge! Hunk! Coran!” Allura called, waving her hands to get their attention on the lifts behind Keith and Lance. “Shiro wants to take a group picture!”

Keith glanced behind them, seeing Hunk and Pidge make faces. Coran, sitting alone on the last lift, threw up both arms to pose. He turned back forward when Lance put his arm around him again, using his other hand to shoot the camera a finger gun. Keith flipped his brother off.

He could see Shiro’s frown even from this distance. “Are you going to do that for every picture?” He called.

“Yes.”

Lance snickered in his ear as Shiro and Allura turned around. Once the camera was lowered, Lance didn’t move away, keeping his arm around the back of the chair behind him. Keith pretended not to notice.

“Your brother sure does like taking pictures.”

Keith shrugged. “He likes to save memories. We… don’t have a lot of pictures from our childhood, so he likes to take as many as he can now to make up for it.”

Lance hummed, nodding slightly. “That’s… pretty cute, actually.”

Keith couldn’t help the smile that crept into his voice. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“My mom likes to take a lot of pictures, too. It used to get annoying, but… I can see why she does it. I never take as many pictures as I should, and I always regret it later.”

“Take a picture now.”

Lance turned to look at him, smile gone as he blinked. “What?”

Keith tried not to fidget as he nudged him with his shoulder. “Take a picture now.” He felt the heat rising to his cheeks, and knew it had nothing to do with the sun. Still, he pushed forward. “You just said you never take as many pictures as you should, so… take one now.”

Lance’s smile was as slow and beautiful as a sunrise. “Yeah, okay.”

He took out his phone and held it out for a selfie. He put his fingers behind Keith’s head as ears, puckering his lips in an exaggerated duck face. Keith stuck out his tongue, nose crinkling, lifting his middle finger to tug down the skin under one eye.

Lance laughed, looking at the finished product. “How jealous do you think Shiro would be if I got a picture of you _without_ you flipping off the camera?”

“Probably pretty jealous.”

“Challenge accepted.”

“I didn’t challenge—“

“No takesies backsies, Keith!”

When they reached the top, Keith hopped off, shoving his hands into his pockets and spinning on his heel to walk backwards, looking at Lance. “You’re on, by the way.”

Lance tilted his head to the side, expression twisted in confusion. It was, admittedly, adorable. “What?”

“The bet. Best two out of three wins. You’re on. Get ready to buy me a drink.”

The resulting grin was blinding. He threw up a fist with an excited, “ _Yes!_ ” and Keith had to turn back around to hide his smile.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Keith ended up winning, though it wasn’t as easy as he had anticipated.

He had started out in the front for the first run down the advanced route, and he had remained that way for the entirety of it. But Lance had remained close on his ass, threatening to overtake him the whole time. Keith finally managed to put some distance between them by taking some corners sharply and with very little breaking. When they pulled into the single file track slots at the end of the course, he threw a cocky smirk over his shoulder. Lance had frowned at him, pointing threateningly as he had said, “Laugh it up, Keith. It’s not over yet.”

Pidge claimed the seat next to him on the way up the chairlift. He tried not to be too disappointed in that. He enjoyed having some one on one time with her, and only stared at Lance’s back a little bit.

On the second run down the course, Lance started in front, and predictably won. Not for lack of trying on Keith’s part, though. He stayed hot on his trail the entire time, to the point where his cart bumped against the back of Lance’s at one point. But at every turn and every time the course widened, Lance was there, blocking Keith from passing him. It was frustrating, and he scowled when Lance smirked back at him.

Shiro pulled him onto the chairlift after that, and he was eternally grateful that his brother stayed away from the subject of Lance. So grateful, in fact, that he allowed him to take another picture of them. He even smiled. Shiro’s victorious expression fell, however, when he checked his phone and noticed Keith’s middle finger in the corner of the screen. Keith grinned at his scowl, and Shiro muttered, “At least I can crop that one out.”

True to his word, Lance let Keith start out in front the last time. Keith had assumed this would be an easy win, but on the first downhill slope, while he swerved to dodge the roughened patches on the sides of the path intended to make the rider zig zag, Lance raced right over the bumpy strips and dove out in front of Keith, forcing him to swerve out of the way. Lance’s laughter drifted back to him.

For a while it looked like Lance would win, and it was clear he thought so, too. Keith was able to take advantage of that cockiness. He stayed directly behind him, and as soon as the track widened toward the end of the course, Keith swerved out beside him. The track dipped abruptly, and they both got air going over the hill. When they landed, Keith swerved toward him sharply, causing Lance to yelp and pull away. In that hesitation, Keith pulled ahead, kicking up dirt behind him and grinning as he finished in first.

They got the chairlift together on the way up the mountain.

“You didn’t have to _literally_ make me eat your dust.” Lance grumbled, rubbing his face. “Geez, I think you got some in my eye.”

“You’re fine.”

“No, I’m not. I think I’m dying. I inhaled lethal amounts of luge track dust. I’m on my deathbed.”

“Guess you can’t buy me that drink then.”

“… On second thought, I’m feeling much better.”

 

* * *

 

“You sure you don’t wanna go, Hunk?” Lance asked, playfully nudging him in the side.

“Nnnnope!” Hunk said firmly, putting up one finger. “You made me go last time. Never again. Nope. Not gonna happen.” He crossed his arms over his chest, settling into his seat. “You guys have fun. I’ll watch from here.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pidge lean closer to Keith and whisper loudly. “Last time Hunk blew so many chunks.”

“So many.” Lance agreed, patting his friend on the arm. “It’s alright, Hunk. We don’t blame you.”

A tension left his large frame. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Look! They’re about to drop!” Pidge said, and Lance turned to see her back to him, head tilted back and hand shading her eyes.

Lance followed her gaze, and sure enough, the round cage of a swing was at its highest point. It jerked to a stop, and the worker waved at them to let them know they were free to drop whenever. He couldn’t see much of their faces at that height, but he could see the tension in their postures. It didn’t take long for Coran to grab the cord, call out, “ _Tally hoe!”_ , and give it a strong yank. There was the _clunk_ sound of it dislodging, and then the round, ball-like seat was swinging forward.

As it _wooshed_ past them, he could hear a chorus of shouts. Coran sounded excited, Allura sounded ecstatic, and he was pretty sure Shiro sounded a little more strained than he had meant to. The swing swung out over the mountain edge, reaching it’s peak before swinging back. Lance grinned as the swing went back and forth several more times before the employee hooked it to bring it to a stop.

As the three of them climbed out of the swing, Pidge practically bounced on the balls of her feet. Keith stood next to her, arms crossed over his chest and weight leaned to one hip. Lance locked his hands behind his back, stepping up next to him and bending forward at the waist to get a good look at his face. The guy was scowling something fierce, thick brows all knotted up and cute pouty lips pressed together.

Lance felt his lips curl into an amused smirk. “What’s the matter, pretty boy? Scared?”

Keith’s eyes snapped to his, and Lance was struck by the color of them for what felt like the hundredth time. In the shadows, his eyes were dark and molten, but in the sunlight, his irises shown with flecks of blues and deep purples, giving them a multifaceted depth that Lance had a hard time believing was real.

Those beautiful eyes were currently narrowed at him as his scowl shifted into what could only be described as a poorly concealed pout.

“I’m not scared.” He snapped, pushing past him to follow Pidge up the stairs toward the swing. Lance only chuckled, following after them and shooting Hunk a wave as he went. Hunk waved back weakly.

Pidge sat on one side, and Keith claimed the middle, leaving Lance to sit on his other side. The employee made idly conversation as she strapped them in, and Lance was quick to point out that it was Keith’s first time. The boy glared at him for that.

“Alright, so who wants to be the one to pull the cord?” She asked, holding up the thin, bright yellow rope.

“Me!” Pidge said, already making grabby hands at it.

And then the ascent began. The swing was pulled back, slowly and with the sound of grinding gears. Lance was practically vibrating with excitement. He loved things like this. He loved the adrenaline. He loved the thrill. He loved the heights. He loved feeling _alive_.

As they went up, their weight shifted, pushing forward against the harnesses, giving that feeling that they might fall at any moment. Lance glanced sideways at Keith. He was expecting some sort of apprehension, maybe nervousness. But none of that was present. In fact, the boy’s face was completely relaxed, lips curved up at the corners in a subtle smile. His hair fell forward as he stared down at the ground.

The movement must have caught his attention, or perhaps it was coincidence, but it was only second later that he turned to look at Lance. His breath caught in his throat. The cocky smile, the excited gleam in his eyes, the faint pink of a sunburn across his nose, drawing Lance’s attention to the light, barely perceivable freckles there.

Goddamn, this boy was beautiful.

“You can hold my hand if you need to.” He said, tilting his chin down and waggling his eyebrows for added affect.

He was expecting a scoff, a frown, maybe a blush if he were lucky. What he wasn’t expecting was for Keith’s smile to curl a little wider. “I was about to say the same thing to you.”

Lance’s stomach flipped, a fluttering in his chest far too pronounced to ignore. Flirty Keith was _definitely_ not something he was prepared for. Not in the slightest. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be prepared for it. He had to physically bite his lip to keep the impulsive giggles from getting out. But judging from the look on Keith’s face, the effort was in vain.

Then the whole thing jerked to a stop, an odd quiet settling around them as the gears stopped turning. The employee at the bottom signaled. Their friends waved. Lance waved back, grinning. He waited for the drop, and….

It didn’t come.

His smile dropped, forming a confused frown as he turned. Keith was turned, too, both of them looking at Pidge. She stared at them both, a wide grin on her face and amusement flickering in her mischievous amber eyes. The cord was in her hands, but she wasn’t pulling it.

“Pidge, what are you—“

“Building suspense.”

“Pidge…” Keith didn’t sound very amused.

“When am I gonna pull it? Who knows, who knows….” She hummed, idly kicking her feet in the open air.

“Pidge, I swear to god, if you don’t—“

Her hand shot forward in a sharp tug, the swing was released with a dull _clunk_ , they were still for a long second, and then the free fall. Lance’s words were cut off as a scream erupted from his throat. The free fall caught as they reached the bottom, swinging them up and out over the mountain. His scream quickly morphed into _whoops_ of excitement, dissolving into laughter. Pidge was screeching gleefully. Keith was oddly quiet.

That is, until they reached the peak of their outward swing. Then Lance watched as his calm face broke and he muttered a breathless, “ _Fuck_ ,” before devolving into laughter.

They all laughed together, with the occasional, _whoooo_ and _that was awesome!_ as the swing went back and forth, barely losing momentum. The swing twisted, giving them a view of everything around them. Pidge waved at their friends. Lance lifted a hand to do the same, only then realizing the warm weight in his hand. He looked down, seeing Keith’s hand tightly clasped in his own, leather of his gloves smooth against his palm.

The tug had drawn Keith’s attention, too, and he was also staring at their joined hands. He looked just as confused as Lance felt. Their eyes met, smiles shy. He didn’t really know who had initiated it, but he didn’t really mind.

They didn’t let go until the swing came to a stop.

 

* * *

 

When Keith was nineteen, he got into an accident on his bike.

He was alone at night, having slipped on black ice and skidded off the road. No serious injuries, but severe road rash, several deep gashes, and bruised pride. Shiro was out of town, and he didn’t want to call an ambulance. He didn’t have money for the hospital. Still, he was cold, with no transportation, bleeding, and in pain. So he called Pidge. She didn’t have her license yet, but she got Matt to drive her to pick him up. They took him home, helped him mend his wounds, wrapped him up in a nest on their couch, and made him tea. They stayed up all night watching movies with him, and let him stay for the weekend so he wouldn’t have to go home to an empty apartment. They helped him fix up his bike, and they came to a silent agreement not to tell Shiro.

The Holts ended up letting him stay all week until Shiro came home, and none of them gave any indication that he was a burden. They treated him like one of the family.

It was then that he learned that while life sometimes took away, it could also give.

 

* * *

 

Lance watched with hazy amusement as a variety of expression passed over Keith’s face. For as stoic as the guy could be while sober, all those walls came crumbling down the second the wasn’t. They’d only had two beers and he was already infinitely easier to read. Every time he looked at Keith, he felt like he learned something new about him. His nose scrunched up when he was frustrated. The tip of his tongue pressed against his upper lip when he was concentrating. He even got to learn what his “beer face” looked like when he took a sip of Lance’s cider, rubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth and squinting one eye as he said it was too sweet.

It was endearing. Far, far too endearing.

Keith’s eyes widened, flashing with victory as he straightened, reaching out a moving a piece across the board. When he looked back at Lance, his smirk was confident, eyes half-lidded as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.

Too bad he had moved his piece right where Lance wanted it.

Without breaking eye contact, and without his own smirk faltering, Lance casually reached out and moved a piece, taking Keith’s.

“Check.”

Keith instantly deflated, eyes flickering over the board. His dismay was palpable. “What the fuck…” He muttered, lifting a hand and running his fingers through his hair, gripping the strands as he leaned into the hand and stared at the board. He’d been doing that a lot throughout the night, making his hair messier and messier. Lance wanted to mess up that hair. Run his fingers through it. Maybe give it a tug…

“You can’t just barrel in, dude.” He said, grinning. “This game is about strategy.”

“I’m too drunk for this…” Keith sank lower, cheek smushing up against his forearm as he glared at the board like it had personally offended him. After a moment’s hesitation, he moved a piece again.

Only for Lance to instantly move his. “Check.”

Keith groaned, sitting up straight and leaning back while he gestured violently to the board with both hands. “How do you _do_ that?”

Lance crossed his arms, resting them on the table and leaning forward. His foot was idly running up and down Keith’s calf, like it had been for the past thirty minutes or so. Keith didn’t seem to mind, but he was often too distracted with the game to reciprocate. He shrugged offhandedly. “I’ve always liked chess. My Abuela taught us when we were kids, so I used to play with my family a lot. Can’t beat Leo anymore, kid’s a little nerd genius. But I can kick some ass in gin rummy.” He was grinning. He was unable to stop. Not while he was around Keith. His eyes flickered to Lance’s face, then away. Only to return a moment later. “Pidge and Hunk also like to play giant chess in the park here, so I pick up some stuff from watching them.”

Keith made one more hesitant move, sealing his fate. With a smirk, Lance lined up his killing blow. “Check-mate.”

Keith groaned loudly, crossing his arms on the table and slouching to rest his chin on them. He glared at the pieces, like he might somehow make them crumble. “I hate this game…”

Lance chuckled, “You just need practice.” He said, voice a little softer than intended. He was already reaching out before he really realized what he was doing, and by that point, it was too late to pull back. So he went with it, brushing the hair out of Keith’s face, reveling in its softness. He stared at him, wide eyed, lips parted, but didn’t move. So Lance let his fingers trail across his forehead, down his temple, knuckles brushing across his cheek. “Your face is red.” He mumbled.

He looked away then, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like “Sunburn”, but given his expression, Lance figured there was a good chance a blush was making it worse than it actually was. He pulled his hand back, despite being reluctant to do so.

The moment was broken as Pidge stumbled to her feet, nearly tripping as she tried to step over the bench. She caught herself with a hand on Keith’s back, then paused, eyes narrowing at Keith’s empty glass.

“You,” She said, driving her index finger into his shoulder blade. “Need another beer. What you want?”

Keith eyed his glass, as if surprised that it was empty. “The amber.”

Lance tapped the table. “A cider for me!”

Pidge snorted. “I ain’t buying you shit.”

He pouted, sticking out his bottom lip as far as it would go. “Pidge why are you so _meaaan?_ ”

“Come get your own beer. And one for Hunk, while you’re at it.”

Lance shrugged, pushing himself to his feet. “Hey, Hunk, what you want?”

Hunk glanced up, pausing whatever in depth conversation he had gotten into with Coran. Lance hadn’t been paying much attention to them since they arrived. His focus had been entirely on Keith. A fact that he was a little embarrassed about, but not at all ashamed of. “Uh, the stout?”

“You got it, buddy.”

After they got back into town, they had gone to get dinner and then moved to a local brewery for drinks. True to his word, he’d bought Keith his first drink. By the time their first round was done, they had devolved into smaller groups. He and Keith had started a game of chess, Hunk and Coran had slipped into conversation, and Pidge had been telling Allura embarrassing stories of Shiro, much to his mortification.

The rest of the night passed in a similar vein. Conversation ebbed and flowed, their small groups morphed and separated and came together again. Meanwhile, one thing stayed constant: Lance’s attention was nearly always on Keith. Even when he wasn’t looking at him, or talking to someone else, their legs were touching under the table. He claimed he could read palms just to have an excuse to peel back his gloves and hold Keith’s hand, letting his fingers run along the lines and imperfections of it, marveling in the shape of his fingers and the roughness of his calluses. And if he conveniently forgot to let go afterward? Keith didn’t say anything. And if Keith started rubbing his thumb over Lance’s knuckles? Well, Lance didn’t say anything either.

Shiro, Allura, and Coran left first. Barely past their third beer. They made jokes about the old people going to bed, but it was all in good fun. The four of them managed to find a deck of cards and busied themselves with that. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he marveled in how well they all fit together, how easily their group clicked.

Pidge and Hunk stood up to leave next, Pidge steadying herself against Hunk’s sturdier frame. Hunk, bless him, barely looked fazed. The only indication that he had any alcohol in his system was the slightly hazy look on his face and the flush on his cheeks.

“We’re gonna head out,” He said. His words didn’t sound quite so slurred as they did lazy, drawling together. “You coming, Lance?”

“Keith?” Pidge asked, taking a moment to drape herself over his shoulders. “You want us to walk you back to the hotel?”

Keith glanced at him, and they shared a look, so small, so quick, and yet so significant.

“I think I’m gonna stay a bit longer.” He said, lifting his glass a fraction. “I’ve still got more beer.”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Why’re you such a slow drinker?”

He smirked. “Why’re you so fast? You have the tolerance of a grapefruit.”

Pidge snorted, swatting at his head.

“Lance?” Hunk repeated, eyeing him steadily.

Lance tried his best to look nonchalant, resting an elbow on the table and leaning his cheek against his open palm. He used his other hand to wave at Keith. “Might as well stay and keep mullet boy here company.”

“I don’t have a mullet.” Keith grumbled, lips so pouty and tempting.

Lance smiled easily, lightly tapping Keith’s leg with his toe. “I beg to differ.”

“Whatever, let’s go, Hunk.” Pidge slurred, pushing off of Keith to head toward the door. She put forth a remarkable effort not to sway or stumble. She didn’t quite pull it off.

Hunk gave them both a smile and a wave before hurrying after her, steadying her with a careful hand to her shoulder. Lance watched them go, staring at the doors long after they were gone. He hummed thoughtfully to himself, idly tapping the table top with his fingers. He didn’t look at Keith, afraid that if he did, he would somehow lose his nerve.

“So…”

“So.”

“It’s getting pretty late…”

“Yeah.”

“Worried about disturbing Shiro and Allura when you get back?”

A brief pause. “I have my own hotel room.” The words were spoken with a strange mix of confidence and hesitance, uncertainty and offhanded ease. There were implications there. Implications that Lance liked. Implications that made his heart jump into overtime, stomach twisting painfully in both anticipation and nerves.

He really hoped he wasn’t reading too much into this.

“Oh, nice.” He tried for nonchalance, and missed his mark by a long shot. He did, however, manage to hide his cringe at the higher pitch to his voice. Instead, he cleared his throat. Finger tapping getting more insistent. “Cool. Cool, cool. Coolcoolcool. Coooool.”

Oh god, he sounded like an idiot. Whatever happened to smooth Lance? To confident Lance? All his cockiness shriveled in the face of direct action, of a promise to make this something more, of the question of taking this that giant step further, of doing _this_. He usually didn’t have this problem, but here he was, having it with Keith. He didn’t want to think too hard on that one. Luckily, the alcohol buzzing through his system didn’t let that train of thought continue too far. Let that be something to box away and dig up another day.

Right here, right now, he had to focus on salvaging this situation. On not sounding like a complete—

“Wanna see it?”

Lance froze, eyes snapping to Keith. His gaze was steady, irises dark and molten in the bar’s dim lighting. His eyes were fixed and hardened at the edges, lips set in stern determination. There was something in the way he met Lance’s eyes, something that made him feel raw and exposed, something that sent a thrill through his chest and a rush of blood down his body, something that made his heart pound and his breath catch, something that threw him completely off kilter, something he had never seen so strongly and intensely and solely focused on _him_. Something _hungry_.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, licking his lips and feeling a shiver when Keith’s eyes flickered down to watch the movement. His fingers on the table had stilled.

And then the moment snapped, tension melting. He slouched forward, fingers dragging circles on the worn wood, calf rubbing up Keith’s beneath the table. “You know,” He said, voice low and full of intent, with an edge of cockiness that he couldn’t quite get rid of. He watched as Keith flushed, far too red to be merely sunburn, and a visible shiver wracked through him. Still those dark violet eyes held his. Lance found himself unable to look away. “I think I do.”

 

* * *

 

Keith’s world was made up entirely of sensations.

Lips on his neck. A warm, firm body pressed against his back. Hands on his hips, inching beneath his shirt. Long, slender fingers sliding up his stomach, his chest. Teeth nipping at his shoulder. Warm breath brushing past his ear. Hips pressed against his.

He fumbled with his room key, unable to get a grip on the cool metal. It was so simple a task, but he couldn’t get his hands to cooperate, couldn’t get his mind to focus, and he knew it had nothing to do with the beer.

It took him several tries to get the key into the hole, and Lance chuckled, the deep sound rumbling through both their chests, breathy puffs against his ear.

He shoved the door open with a grunt of annoyance, tossing the key into the room as he stepped in. He grabbed Lance’s wrist, tugging him inside. He shut the with more force than necessary, earning another breathy laugh from Lance. Keith shoved him against the door, pushing up against him and latching onto his neck. His laugh cut off with a gasp, devolving into a low moan. The sound sent fire blazing through his body.

His hands found their way under Lance’s shirt, tugging at the fabric and growling against Lance’s throat in frustration. Lance took the hint. His shirt was off faster than Keith could process, his mind muddled and at half speed, inhibitions tossed aside and driven by desire. Suddenly he was faced with bare, bronze skin, smooth and flawless and tight over lean muscles that shifted and moved beneath Keith’s wandering hands. He didn’t get to explore or admire nearly as much as he wanted to, the fabric of his own shirt suddenly obscuring his vision as Lance tugged his shirt over his head. He tossed it aside, and then Lance was kissing him.

He melted into it, body pushing up against Lance’s, reveling in the warmth of their contact, feeling Lance’s body tight to the door. His lips were soft, yet rough. Smooth, yet chapped. So many contradicting sensations that changed with each time their lips came together. No kiss was the same as the last. Each time they came together, it was something new, something thrilling, something for him to lose himself in. He couldn’t think of anything better to lose himself in than Lance.

Hands were in his hair, slender fingers tangling and tugging at his roots. A long, drawn out groan ripping from his throat, and Lance took the opportunity to lick his way into his mouth. Keith opened up to him easily. His hands were on Lance’s hips, running up and down his sides, exploring his chest, his back, unable to stay still.

It was messy. It was uncoordinated. Their teeth clanked and caught on lips. Their tongues bumped and fought. He could feel drool running down his chin. It was the worst kiss of his entire life.

And yet somehow, it was the best.

It wasn’t long before Lance was pulling away. Their eyes locked, both breathing heavily, puffs fanning out across each other’s lips. Then Lance’s face twitched, and he was laughing. His head fell back with a dull _thunk_ against the door, one hand going to cover his eyes as he laughed. Keith felt himself smile in response, amusement running deep and bubbling up out of him, making him feel light despite the heaviness of his desire. He dropped his head to Lance’s shoulder, his own shaking with silent laughter.

When they had both calmed down, Keith lifted his head. They both wiped off their mouths, grinning as they did so. Lance’s gaze turned soft as his hands cradled Keith’s face, fingers tangling in his hair. “Wanna try that again?” He mumbled, voice deep and breathless. It sent shivers down his spine.

He gave a barely perceivable nod and breathed, “Yeah.”

With a gentle tug, Lance pulled him close again, tilting his head to slot their lips together. Unlike the first time, it was slow, gentle, yet with an edge of barely concealed passion. They took their time, exploring each other’s mouths, figuring out how their lips fit together, reveling in the feeling of it, eventually picking up a subtle ebb and flow, a give and take, a gentle rocking rhythm that built and built and built.

Keith’s knee slipped between Lance’s thighs, pushing up against him. He could feel Lance’s dick pressed tight against his jeans. Keith was achingly hard. Lance’s hands curled in his hair, and Keith groaned. He nipped at Lance’s lips, at his jaw, at his neck, his hands dragging hard against the bronzed flesh of his chest and back, unable to stay still and loving the feel of the muscles squirming beneath his touch. Lance made little gasping sounds, small breathy moans. Keith loved them. Lance tilted his head back, an invitation that Keith gladly took. He latched onto Lance’s neck, dragging his teeth, sliding his lips, sucking hard, exploring everything, eager to hear more of those sounds.

Their hips rocked together, chasing a friction that they needed. Everything was becoming far more urgent far too quickly.

Hands were between them, fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans. Keith sucked marks onto his collar bone, his own hands struggling with Lance’s pants. They had to detach from each other to kick off their shoes. Keith growling his frustration as his laces took longer than he wanted them to. As soon as his feet were bare on the floor, Lance was tugging his pants down, followed quickly by his own. And then lips were together again, hands everywhere, roaming, feeling, lips losing coordination in their urgency.

Keith’s legs his the bed and he fell backwards, dragging Lance down on top of him. They scooted further onto the bed, Keith spreading his legs for Lance to better lay between them. He wrapped them comfortably around Lance’s hips, arms fitting automatically around his neck. Lance lathered his neck with attention, nipping playfully before planting kisses, sucking on his collarbone. He pushed his hips into Keith’s, the thin material of their boxers leaving nothing to the imagination. Keith’s back arched, head pushing into the mattress as a moan was ripped from him.

Lance lifted his head, smiling down at him in that cocky way that was both infuriating and endearing. He braced himself with an elbow next to Keith’s head, his other hand running almost lazily up and down Keith’s thigh, from hip to knee and back again.

Then he lifted his head, eyes flickering around as he took in their surroundings. “Nice room.” He said casually, laughter at the edges.

Keith rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms tight around his neck and pulling him back down. “Shut up,” He mumbled against his lips, and then they were kissing again, bodies rocking together, delicious friction teasing and tantalizing but not nearly enough.

It ended too quickly when Lance was suddenly pulling away, bodies coming to a still as he gazed down. They were both panting, and Keith took solace in the fact that he looked as wrecked as he felt.

“Okay, so…” Lance started, having to pause to catch his breath and lick his lips. He leaned onto one elbow, running his other hand through his hair. “Not to like, stop the flow or whatever, but which way do you wanna, you know…” He gestured vaguely up and down their bodies. “ _Do_ this?”

Keith stared at him, one eyebrow raised.

Lance pouted. “You know, which way do you usually… _do_ it? How do you like it?”

He didn’t know what Lance meant. His mind was only working at half capacity.

Lance sighed, looking embarrassed but his tone betrayed him with something that almost sounded fond. “Do you wanna give or take, Keith?”

Oh. _Oh_.

Keith tilted his head, gazing up at Lance as he chewed his bottom lip, fingers playing the the hair at the nape of his neck. “Usually I don’t mind, but… with the race…”

Lance ducked his head a little, chuckling. He grinned, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair away from his forehead. “No, that’s chill, I get it. You don’t wanna ride a bike for hours a couple days after riding my dick for—“ Keith shoved him, and Lance laughed, voice lowering as he waggled his eyebrows. “Lucky for you, I’m pretty _flexible_ in bed.” And to top it off, he winked.

Unable to fight the heat rising to his cheeks, and the heat rushing to his dick, Keith retaliated by forcing them to roll over and cutting off Lance’s laugh with a solid kiss.

When he had left him breathless and squirming, Lance pushed him away with gentle hands on his shoulders. “You got any…?”

This time Keith knew exactly what he meant. He stared down at him. Eyes wide as he blinked. “… _Fuck_.” He hadn’t been expecting… _this_ would happen when he packed! He hadn’t thought to bring _lube_ and _condoms_ on vacation!

Lance must have seen his low key panic, or perhaps he was just prepared for this answer, because he was shoving Keith a little more insistently, “Nope, nope, it’s okay. I got this. Up!”

“What?”

“Up! Up, up, up!” He slapped at Keith’s arms until he rolled off him. Then he leapt to his feet, only stumbling a little as he stepped across the room. As Keith watched, baffled as Lance hurriedly struggled into his jeans, nearly falling over before leaning against the wall for support. He wiggled into them, buttoned them, and then tugged on his shirt. “I’ll be right back!” He only had one shoe on as he made his way to the door, the other in his hand.

Keith blinked, pushing himself into a sitting position. “Are you serious?”

“You bet that sweet ass I’m serious.” He said, leaning against the door as he pulled his other shoe on. When he stomped his foot down, he pointed at Keith with a dramatic, almost threatening flair. “You got me excited for that dick of yours, and by god, I’m going to ride it.”

Keith groaned, covering his face with his hands, but not before seeing Lance’s lips curl into a wide grin. He flopped back on the bed. “Why are you like this?”

“Don’t lie, you want a piece of this ass.”

Keith groaned again.

“It’s part of my charm. Now you stay here, stay hot, stay hydrated, I’m be right back!”

Before Keith could look up, Lance was already out the door.

And then he was left alone with silence.

The ghost of Lance’s warmth was still in the room, against his skin. The only evidence that he had ever been there was the marks blooming on Keith’s collarbone and the tingling of his lips. But even those sensations were fading. The memory of his weight, his warmth, was quickly fading as his skin cooled.

He was left feeling cold and vulnerable, and it was extremely sobering.

He still felt tipsy, the alcohol still buzzing in his veins, but with his exposed bare skin and silence came a strange clarity of mind.

And with that clarity came low key panic.

This wasn’t…. this wasn’t something he _did_ very often. Hooking up, one night stands, vacation flings. This wasn’t something he was _planning_ on. He hadn’t _meant_ to find someone to hook up with, and despite his attraction to Lance, he hadn’t really thought they’d get this far. But this was real. This was happening…

… It _was_ happening, wasn’t it? Lance wouldn’t just… ditch him, would he? He would come back. Lance didn’t seem like the type of guy to just leave him hanging. Still, when he _did_ come back, would things be different? With their initial buzz and desire calmed, would it… really still happen?

More importantly, did he _want_ it to happen? Did he _want_ to hook up with Lance like this? Randomly and through coincidence, halfway across the world from home?

What did he want?

His head was going to start hurting if he kept this up. He didn’t want to overthink things, but unfortunately that was what happened when he was left alone in silence.

So he forced himself to get up. He grabbed a bottle of water, the coolness of it relieving his senses and bringing some calm to his mind. Unable to just… sit around in his boxers, he pulled on his pajama pants, feeling instantly better with that sense of vulnerability gone. Then he settled down on his bed, turned on the tv, and flicked through the channels while he waited.

He thought of Lance’s hurried but enthusiastic exit, of the promise he had left him with, and found himself smiling.

This was unlike any hook-up he’d ever had.

It felt like nearly an hour before he heard the knock at the door. And despite practically straining to hear it, waiting and waiting for it, Keith still jumped. He slid off the bed, padding across the room to the door, heart pounding in his chest. It was ridiculous. Why was he getting so worked up? It was just Lance. Lance, who said he’d be back. Lance, who he was starting to doubt wouldn’t be back. Lance, who managed to do so much to him without doing anything at all.

When he opened the door, Lance was standing there, a small plastic bag in one hand and a pizza box in the other. “Did someone order some lube, a pizza, and a Cuban?” He practically purred, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Keith took a moment to look him over. The bright smile, the disheveled hair, the shirt lifted on one side to reveal a sharp hip bone, one shoe untied, breathing like he had run the entire way back, eyes bright and beautiful.

Did he really want to do this?

Yes. Yes, he did. Very much. So much that it was starting to hurt, breath thick in his lungs and heart clenching painfully.

“No,” He said calmly, and started to shut the door.

“ _Keith!_ ” Lance squealed in a half-whisper, half-whine. His foot shot out, kicking the door back open. Keith merely chuckled, opening the door wider to let him in.

Lance slid past him, a level of sway in his hips that had to be intentional. He set the pizza box on the hotel table, tossed the bag onto the bed, and turned to find Keith standing right behind him. His hands found their way to Keith’s bare chest as Keith’s arms automatically wound around his waist, tugging them close.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come back,” He found himself mumbling.

Lance’s resulting smile was small and soft, without any edge of mockery. His hands slid up his chest, loosely draping around his neck, fingers playing with his hair. He tilted his head to the side. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. He had meant for it to be quick, casual, but Lance held him captive, deepening the kiss until Keith felt a stir of heat inside him once again.

“Sorry it took so long.” Lance mumbled against his lips. “The first place I went didn’t have what I wanted.”

Keith pulled away, leaning back a fraction to eye the pizza box on the table. “And apparently you got pizza?”

Lance nodded, grinning with pride “I got pizza.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, gaze returning to his. “Why?”

Lance shrugged, grin shifting to something more sheepish. “While I was out, I realized I was starving, and that it’s been a while since we ate. And I always get hungry when I drink, you know? So I thought maybe you were, too. And I don’t know about you, but I plan on working up quite an appetite tonight, so you know, gotta refuel our carbs. And then I thought, pizza! And— well— here we are.” Keith was unaware that he was making a face, but he must have been, because Lance’s smile fell, replaced by a look of worry. His brows pinched, and he bit his bottom lip as his eyes searched Keith’s. Keith didn’t like that look of crestfallen uncertainty. It didn’t suit him at all. “…Bad decision?”

Keith’s stomach took that moment to growl loudly, and he felt his lips quirk into a small smile. “Good decision.”

Lance’s smile was back. “Awesome.”

Keith eyed the pizza box warily. “It’s just… I’m lactose intolerant?” It was a sweet thought, one that was so completely random but so very Lance. He couldn’t really _blame_ Lance for not remembering that he was lactose intolerant. He’d only mentioned it in passing, and they hadn’t known each other for very long—

“I remembered.” He… did? Keith blinked at him, and the surprise must have been clear on his face, because Lance’s grin widened. “Yeah, I remembered you mentioning that. And at first I was like, what’re we gonna do? Cause pizza sounded so good, but I really don’t want you out of commission after I went through the trouble to go out and find lube, so I just ordered it without cheese.”

Keith blinked again, several times, trying to let Lance’s quick paced ramble sink in. “You… ordered it without cheese?”

Lance somehow managed to look sheepish and proud at the same time. “Yeah, I mean, it’s still pizza. A little weird without cheese, but at least you can eat it no problem. Was that a weird idea? Probably.” He shrugged. “I’m still a little tipsy, so it sounded like a good idea at the time.”

Unsure of what to say, Keith leaned over and flipped open the pizza box. Sure enough, there was a pizza, cut into eight slices, covered in sauce and a plethora of meats, with absolutely no cheese.

“I got a meat lovers.” Lance said, bringing Keith’s attention back to him. His lips curled mischievously, eyebrows waggling. “Cause, you know, _meat lovers_.” He ground his hips into Keith’s playfully, with large, overly dramatic motions.

Keith couldn’t help it. He laughed. All of the worries and doubts that had started to build and accumulate in Lance’s absence melted away, evaporating and bubbling out of him in a surprisingly boisterous laugh. He dropped his head to Lance’s shoulder, his own shoulder’s shaking and his arms curling tighter around Lance’s waist.

Lance was a complete and utter dork. An idiot. A cocky, insufferable, incredibly endearing idiot. And Keith undeniably wanted him.

This really was unlike any other hook-up he’d ever had.

 _Lance_ was unlike any other person he’d ever hooked-up _with_.

They lounged on the bed while eating, flipping through the channels measly channels until they settled on Family Feud. He’d never watched the show, never wanted to, and it would no doubt be boring to watch on his own. But Lance made it fun. Lance was making a lot of things fun. After they had finished eating, it didn’t take long for Lance to start to get restless just sitting around waiting to digest, so he started wandering around the small hotel room.

“You realize it looks like you’re a drug dealer, right?” He said, shuffling through the plethora of ziplock bags that littered one of the shelves, each filled with a white powder or some amount of pills.

Keith shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “That’s what I tell Shiro all the time.”

“What is it even for?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder with a raised brow.

“It’s all the nutrients that I’ll need the day of the race. All the electrolytes and salt and shit. You can’t really eat much while you’re out there, so you gotta make sure your body gets what it needs to keep going.”

“You don’t eat?”

“Well… I usually eat like… half a peanut butter sandwich on the bike?”

Lance whistled, long and low. “Damn, slow down, you gluttonous pig.”

Keith snorted.

“Oh gross, I know these.” Lance said, picking up one of the many Gu packets he had lying around. He waved it around in the air. “I’ve taken these for like, swim meets and stuff.”

“Yeah, I pretty much live off of them race day.”

Lance eyed the pile warily. “ _All_ of these?”

“One every half an hour, give or take.”

“Oh sweet Jesus,” He cringed, tossing the packet down. “I don’t know how you do it. They’re absolutely disgusting.”

Keith shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”

“They have a texture worse than cum.”

The corners of Keith’s lips quirked, despite his efforts to keep a straight face. “I don’t mind.”

Lance gave him a look then, a curious, intrigued one that made something stir in Keith’s gut, reminding him why they were there to begin with.

“Good to know,” Lance said, lips curling into a sly grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He continued poking around through Keith’s things, and Keith watched him from where he was propped up against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him, one hand behind his head and the other resting on his stomach. “You have so many things.” Lance commented, riffling through a messy pile on the table.

“It’s a bunch of random shit. I don’t think I need all of it, but Shiro and Allura insist. They’ve been doing this a lot longer than me.”

Lance picked up a package. “ _Nipple_ guards?” He asked, eyeing Keith with a small smile. “ _Really?_ ”

Keith snorted his amusement. “ _Those_ are necessary.”

“Dude, why?”

“Shirts chafe. Especially when you run a marathon.”

“You’re doing an ironman.”

“Which ends with a twenty-six point two miles. Or exactly how long a marathon is.”

Lance’s eyebrows went up at that. He looked impressed. Keith smirked. “Damn…” His eyes raked over Keith’s body, not bothering to hide the slow examination. Keith did his best not to fidget under the weight of that gaze, tried not to move his hands to cover his bare torso. When Lance’s eyes returned to his, they were half-lidded and giving him a dark look that sent heat spiraling through him.

Keith licked his lips, pleased to note how Lance’s eyes flickered down to the movement. “Like what you see?” He asked, voice a lot lower and rougher than he had intended. He felt ridiculous saying it, and had meant for it to sound teasing, but it came out as so much… more.

Lance visibly shivered, setting down the package in his hands and stepping closer to the bed. “I do, actually.” He put a knee on the bed, leaning forward until he was being held up by his hands. “I like it a lot.” He crawled forward, movements slow and body languid. Keith froze, breath catching in his throat as heal pooled and coiled low in his gut. Jesus fucking _Christ_. Lance was pinning him with that gaze, blue depths dark with hunger as he crawled onto Keith’s lap, straddling him, ass firmly planted on his thighs. He leaned forward, pausing when their faces were close enough that Keith’s vision started to blur and he could feel his breath on his lips, but not quite touching. “And as cute as these are,” He said, tugging at the hem of Keith’s alien head pajama pants. “I think they’d look better on the floor.”

“You’re one to talk.” Keith muttered, hands coming down to rest on Lance’s thighs, rubbing them up and down and delighting in the way he squirmed on his lap. “You’re fully dressed.”

“I bet I can get naked faster than you.”

Keith leaned back to get a full view of his face, eyebrow raised. “You’re turning this into a race?”

Something playful sparked in Lance’s eyes, smirk turning mischievous. “Yup.”

“You’re fully clothed and I’m just wearing pajama pants.”

“What’s the matter? Scared, iron-boy?”

“In your dreams. What does the winner get?”

There was _definitely_ something sly about his expression. Keith liked it a lot more than he wanted to admit, if his boner had anything to say about it. “Loser has to finger me open.”

Both eyebrows went up at that. “Why would I want to win then?”

His smirk widened. “Cause if you win, you get to watch me touch myself.”

Aaaand yup. He was definitely pitching a tent now. Hello, boner city. That mental image was… _fuck_. He was pretty sure his face would flush if every once of blood in his body wasn’t rushing straight to his dick. Lance, lets spread wide, one hand on his dick, pulling desperately with his fingers buried deep in his ass, hips squirming as he tried to get the right angle, beautiful skin flushed and glistening, head thrown back, gasping, moaning, eyes locked onto Keith’s, blue irises flashing and smug, _knowing_ he was driving Keith—

“One, two, three, go!” Lance shouted in a rush, practically throwing himself off Keith as he rolled off the bed, hands automatically scrambling at the front of his pants. Keith had never seen a man shimmy out of his jeans so quickly. Keith gaped, entirely distracted and losing precious seconds before he was able to recover. He jammed his hands into the hem of his pants and boxers, sliding them both down in a rush. By the time he kicked them off, Lance was already standing next to the bed, hands on his hips and grinning his victory, fully naked in all his glory.

Keith’s eyes devoured him.

“Looks like I win,” He sang, swaying his hips in such an overdone manner that it _really_ shouldn’t have been attractive, but Keith’s mouth went dry. “Now you have to touch me.” He continued to sing, tossing the small plastic bag onto the bed next to him.

Keith couldn’t help his smirk. “Somehow I don’t really feel like I lost.”

Lance snorted, crawling across the bed, reclaiming his spot on Keith’s lap. He put his hands on either side of Keith’s face, holding him with surprising gentleness as he pulled him forward. “Then get to it, loser.” He said, breath against Keith’s lips.

Keith closed the remaining distance and kissed him.

His buzz had long since worn off, leaving only the echo of drunkenness that he had felt before. His newfound sobriety brought with it a crystal clarity. A clarity with which he was able to fully enjoy kissing Lance. Could fully appreciate the softness of his lips, the way they fit together, the eagerness with with he kissed him back.

Lance’s hands slid up his bare torso with agonizing slowness, fingers spreading and taking in every detail on their way up, before those fingers curled into his hair once again. As they did so, Keith’s own hands slid down his back, taking in every bump of his spine, every rib, every dip and stretch of muscle, the slight curve of his waist, the curve of his ass, before running out along his thighs. Lance squirmed in his lap, dick hard and resting next to Keith’s own against his stomach as he arched into him.

Their kiss started out slow, almost hesitant in nature, a question. Moving into something more purposeful and languid, an exploration. Then shifting to something more desperate, more passionate, _hungry_. They explored each other with hands, tongues, and teeth. Licking into Lance’s mouth like a man dying of thirst. Lance pulled back, gasping for air, but Keith wasn’t done. He needed more, more. He kissed along his jaw, down his neck, dragging his teeth and dragging out moans.

Their urgency became plain with small movements. The extra squeeze in their fingers as they explored, the restlessness of their hands, the extra bite to their kisses, the loss of coordination, the hitch in their breaths, the small noises that they couldn’t quite keep from slipping out, the rocking of their bodies, trying to press together and chase the friction between them.

Keith fumbled for the bag, struggling to get the plastic off the bottle. He had to turn away to see what he was doing, and Lance took advantage of that to get his revenge on Keith’s neck. Keith tilted his head to the side, giving him better access as he warmed the liquid between his fingers. Lance gasped as he pressed against him, shuttering as he swirled his finger around, and letting out a shaking moan as he slowly pushed the tip of one finger inside.

Keith took his time working Lance open, took pleasure in seeing what sounds he could draw out of him, enjoyed exploring him and watching his reactions. And Lance didn’t disappoint. He squirmed on Keith’s lap, hands alternating between digging into Keith’s hair, dragging down his chest, and digging into his arms. He tried to kiss Keith back, but it soon became too much, and he tossed his head back, breathing heavily, gasping, and biting his lip to try to stifle the other sounds he made. Keith alternated between watching him and sucking marks into his neck. His free hand rubbed up and down Lance’s thigh in a mindless, soothing gesture, reveling in the softness of his skin.

By the time Lance was begging for him, he was achingly hard and all to willing to oblige. He rolled them over, propping Lance’s hips up on a pillow before settling between his thighs, which spread easily for him in an obvious welcome invitation. Lance watched him through half lidded eyes as he rolled the condom on, arms thrown back and hands gripping the pillow above his head, hair disheveled and skin flushed and bruised. He panted, chest rising and falling in exaggerated breaths, tongue darting out to lick across moist, kiss swollen lips.

He was beautiful.

Keith pushed into him slowly, one hand on Lance’s hip and the other at his side, holding him up. His eyes wanted to flutter closed as the sensation of his tight warmth, but he forced them to stay open, eagerly devouring the expression on Lance’s face, watching as his back arched, head thrown back, face twisting in pleasure, pain, and surprise. Keith paused, soothing him, hand roaming, petting, as he muttered praises and encouragements. Only when he relaxed did Keith continue, pushing all the way in and gasping. His head dropped to Lance’s chest, both of them breathing heavily as they adjusted. Lance was tight and warm around him, driving him insane with pure sensation.

Lance recovered before he did, whining pitifully as he squirmed, wordlessly pleading for Keith to move. And so he did, because who was he to deny Lance anything. He started out slow, dragging out and pushing in with steady movements, building pressure and giving enough friction to feel good but not enough to be satisfying.

He kept at that pace until Lance was whining again, pleading, hands grabbing, nails digging, begging. Keith gave in, speeding up until he lost all sense of reason, focused solely on the sensation of Lance, Lance around him. Lance’s legs wrapping around his hips. Lance’s nails dragging down his back. Lance’s voice in his ear, cracked and ragged, breathless and desperate as he gasped his name and begged _faster, harder, more, please, fuck, Keith, Keith, Keith_. He was lost to sensation, chasing pleasure, chasing friction, chasing something he couldn’t name but could feel building inside of him. The warmth in his stomach. The lightness in his chest. The clench in his gut. Coiling low. Building, building, building. His thoughts spiraling away from him until they were a steady stream of _Lance, Lance, Lance, fuck, fuck, Lance_.

He shifted his weight, changing the angle, and thrusted hard until— Lance’s back arched, his entire body shuddering as he let out a choked cry. There. There. He kept the angle, thrusting hard and fast, feeling his own orgasm close. He grabbed at Lance’s dick, pumping him quickly and mindlessly. He lost his rhythm, movements becoming sporadic. It didn’t matter.

He came with a choked sound, hearing Lance cry out, nails digging in hard as he spilled out over Keith’s hand. They rode out their orgasm together, pausing when they were done and hovering still, chests heaving. Keith pulled out slowly, both of them wincing as he did so. He tugged off the condom with a cringe, tossing it in the trash as he made his way to the bathroom on shaking legs to get a towel.

When he returned, he had to take a moment to simply look at him, still lying on the bed, limbs sprawled, eyes closed, flushed chest heaving, wet lips parted, hair a mess, cum drying on his stomach… he was the perfect picture of post orgasmic bliss, and something fluttered and twisted in Keith’s chest at the sight. He liked that sight. He liked it a lot.

He cleaned Lance up before collapsing on the bed next to him, half on top of him and arm thrown across his waist. Lance chuckled, eyes slitting open and rolling his head to the side to gaze lazily at Keith. His smile was slow and small and content, and Keith felt his lips tugging up into an answering one.

“Do I have to say how incredible that was?” Lance said, voice still ragged and sounding a little winded.

Keith shifted, resting his chin against Lance’s shoulder. He couldn’t help the smirk that curled his lips as he gave a half-hearted shrug. “It would be appreciated.”

Lance shifted, rolling onto his side to face him, arm lying across Keith’s hip, fingers idly tracing patterns against his skin. He leaned forward so their noses were touching and whispered, “That was incredible.”

Keith hummed, eyes closing as his arm curled just a little tighter around Lance’s waist. “I agree.”

Then there was a finger poking his cheek. Keith’s eyes opened, finding Lance smirking at him, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You tired already? You’re supposed to be the one in shape.”

“Shut up, beer makes me tired.” He mumbled, scooting forward to bury his face in the crook of Lance’s neck.

He chuckled, and Keith felt the sound vibrate through him, right down to his toes. Lance’s hands soothed up and down his sides. “Such a shame, and after just one round.”

Keith’s dick twitched with interest. He lifted his head, peering up through his hair with a raised brow. “This was only round one?”

Lance’s cheeky grin was infectious. “Well, you _are_ a triathlete. I was thinking we could go for three.” He tried to feign nonchalance. “That is, unless you’re too _tiiiired_.”

Keith snorted, but he couldn’t help the amused smile that betrayed him. “Is that a challenge?”

“And if it is?”

“Then I accept.”

Lance’s eyes sparkled with mirth and something warm. He scooted back, slapping at Keith’s arm to let him go. “Alright, let me go to the bathroom and let’s see what we can do about round two.” He slipped out of the bed, and shuffled to the bathroom on shaky legs with an uncertain wobble. That, however, didn’t stop him from casting a smirk and a wink over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.

Keith rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, unable to suppress the smile on his face. Yeah. _definitely_ unlike any hook up he’d ever had.

 

* * *

 

When Lance was twenty, he was dating this girl.

They had been dating for nearly a year. She was into parties. More so than Lance. She liked to go, liked to flirt. She liked getting drunk on the weekends. If Lance said he wanted to stay in, she would pout and tell him it would make her happy if he went. So he did. He slowly stopped hanging out with his own friends to hang out with hers. He started cutting classes because she wanted to hang out with him. He stopped going home to see his family as often. She didn’t like his video games, his friends, his hobbies. She didn’t listen to his hopes, his dreams, his fears.

They had good times. They had fun. They laughed and enjoyed the time they spent together. But after a while, Lance began to realize that he wasn’t happy. She seemed happy. She liked how they were, what they did. She liked their relationship, and he realized he didn’t.

It was then that he learned that sometimes the same things don’t make everyone happy.

 

* * *

 

Keith woke up tangled in the sheets and alone.

He stared at the empty spot next to him, where the sheet had been tossed aside and remained crumpled, pillow indented with the shadow of the person who had slept there throughout the night. Disoriented, mind muddled with sleep, and mouth feeling incredibly dry, he reached out a hand to the empty space. There was the faint lingering of warmth. Maybe it was Lance leaving that had woken him up then.

He sighed, rolling onto his back and running his hand through his hair. He didn’t really blame Lance. How could he? They might have spent an, admittedly, amazing night together, but that’s just what it was. A night. A hook-up. Something you do and then let go. Something that already slots itself into memory as the sun rises, a story to tell later, a brief moment of pleasure to enjoy the present only to have it slip away and dissolve in the daylight like fog.

He didn’t know what he was expecting. He wasn’t expecting more, really. He had known what he was getting into. All he had wanted was a momentary distraction. And he had gotten it. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it, not really.

That didn’t stop the twisting in his gut and the rolling of his stomach when he thought of Lance.

He blamed the beer.

He was so deep in his spiral of self pity, one arm flung over his face to drown out the day, that he didn’t quite register the smell of coffee saturating the room.

Not until the toilet flushed, startling him out of his internal moping. He lifted his arm, propping himself up on an elbow, blinking with wide eyed surprise as Lance stepped out of the bathroom wearing nothing but his boxers. He was humming softly to himself, face relaxed in contentment. But when his eyes landed on Keith, his whole expression brightened.

“Morning!” He grinned, stepping up to the small shelf above the mini fridge, pulling out a mug and lifting up the french press. “Coffee?”

Keith nodded dumbly. “You’re… still here.”

Lance stilled after pouring one cup, slowly turning to look at him over his shoulder, face carefully unreadable. “Did you… want me to go?”

He didn’t hesitate. “No.”

Lance’s smile was back, body slumping as he relaxed. “Cool. Anything in your coffee?”

“No, I take it black.”

Lance chuckled, lip curling slightly. “Gross. Figures. First beer, now black coffee. Do you like anything sweet?” He handed Keith a mug before pouring milk and sugar into his own.

Keith just shrugged, sipping carefully to avoid burning himself. “I don’t know how to use those things.” He said, nodding toward the french press.

Lance glanced at it, eyebrows raised, then he chuckled softly. “Yeah, neither did I when I first got here. But you learn pretty quick.” He slipped back into his spot on the bed, sitting up against the headboard and pulling the sheets back over his legs. Keith sat up next to him. They stared at each other, and Keith was hesitant to admit the matching grins on their faces. “How’d you sleep?”

“As soon as I laid down, it was lights out. How’d you feel?”

Lance shifted a little. “Sore, but satisfied.”

Keith ducked his head to hide his grin.

Their mugs found their way to the nightstands, the two of them slipping further down into the sheets as they talked. If you asked Keith later, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you what they talked about, but he would be able to recall the warm feeling of contentment. His hands roamed over Lance’s body, fingertips reverently mapping his skin, finding the dips and bumps, memorizing the lines. The night before, mind clouded in a haze of beer and lust and obscured by his own desperation, he had thought Lance’s skin was flawless. Now, he found, he was wrong. There were plenty of imperfections. The tiny bumps and scares, gone white and faded with age. The freckles and moles that dotted his flesh, the discolorations cause from one thing or another.

They only proved to make Lance more perfect.

As he explored Lance, Lance explored him. Long, slender fingers roaming his torso and his arms, up his neck and down his thighs. They pointed out each other’s imperfections, their marks, the things that stood out against their skin. They took turns telling stories, revealing and sharing the pasts that made them who they were, making them more real. They whole time they lay close, legs intertwined, foreheads touching as their eyes were downcast to roam. Their coffee sat half-empty, cooling rapidly and forgotten.

They existed in their own bubble of space and time, undisturbed by anything else, unable to be touched by the outside world.

That is, until there was a knock at the door.

“Keith?” Shiro called, knocking again, a little more insistent.

Keith stifled a yelp, sitting up straight and whipping his head around to stare at the door in horror. It was locked, thank god, but he could only deter Shiro for so long.

“Keith, are you awake? Open up.”

“Fuck,”

“Keith?” Lance said softly, eyebrow raised in question. Keith looked at him, beautiful and perfect and in his bed, and he imagined Shiro’s reaction to seeing such a sight, and— _Nope_.

“Hide!” Keith hissed, pulling the blankets off Lance’s body and shoving him hard, pushing him cleanly off the bed and onto the floor on the side opposite the door. Lance let out a muffled yelp as he went down. “Don’t let him see you.” He added hastily as he practically threw himself out of bed. Running his hand through his hair, he looked around hastily, eyes landing on all the incriminating evidence.

He scrambled around the room, tossing the lube and condoms into a drawer and kicking Lance’s clothes into a pile of his own before grabbing a hoodie and pulling it on to hide any marks that Lance had made.

He schooled his features into something grumpy and impassive as he opened the door, glaring up at his brother. “What?”

Shiro was already dressed, shaved, and bright eyed, like he’d been up for hours. His lips were curled into a small, amused smile. “Morning to you, too.”

Keith sighed, leaning against the door frame. “What’d you want, Shiro?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I just wanted to tell you that we’re gonna drive the bike course in about an hour.”

Keith nodded. “Alright, thanks. I’ll be ready.”

Shiro quirked an eyebrow, looking him over with searching eyes. Keith tried not to fidget and held his gaze steady. Shiro looked past him, into what he could see of his hotel room. He really fucking hoped he couldn’t see Lance. He watched Shiro’s expression carefully, looking for any signs, but finding none. Finally, his brother looked back to him.

“I was going to ask if you needed help using the french press, but it looks like you figured it out.”

Keith scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. I googled it.”

Shiro nodded. “Cool.” He took a hesitant step backward, eyeing Keith. “So… I’ll see you in an hour?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be late.”

“Okay, _mom_.”

Shiro snorted, waving him off as he stepped away. Keith shut the door, leaning against it and tilting his head back against the wood. He closed his eyes, breathing out a sigh of relief.

“Regretting me already?”

Keith’s eyes snapped open. Lance was still sitting on the floor, but his arms were crossed and resting on the side of the bed, chin resting atop them as he gazed steadily at him. He was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something uncertain there, worried. Keith didn’t like the look of it. It didn’t suit him.

Keith snorted, pushing off the door and striding back into the room. “Not in the slightest.” He threw himself back on the bed, putting a hand behind his head to prop it up. “I just don’t want to deal with Shiro’s teasing. He’s _relentless_.”

The shadows disappeared from his eyes as he laughed, pushing himself up onto the bed. “Fair enough,” He looked at Keith, head tilted and smile lopsided. “Sooo… I should go, I guess?”

Keith shrugged, butterflies fluttering in his chest as he said with as much nonchalance as he could, “I’ve still got an hour…”

Lance’s smile curled a little more as he tilted his head down, gazing up at Keith through his lashes. His movements became slow and languid as he slinked across the bed on all fours, like a predator stalking its prey. “I can think of a few ways to kill time…”

Keith tried to hold a straight face. “Hmm, is that right?”

“Yeah,” Lance breathed, hovering over him, lips so close but not quite touching. Keith ached at the distance.

“Show me.”

Despite the bitter edge of coffee, Lance tasted sweet.

 

* * *

 

Lance didn’t know what possessed him to do this.

It wasn’t like he’d never had a one night stand before. He didn’t usually get attached like this. He blamed it on Keith. Keith and his stupid soft hair. Keith and his stupid dark eyes. Keith and his stupid pretty face. Keith and that stupid dimple on the left side of his lopsided smile. Keith and his stupid rumbly laugh. Keith and his stupid calloused hands. Keith and the little gasps he made when Lance touched him. Keith and the stupid way he touched him, so reverent and gentle, like Lance was a dream that might shatter if he was too rough or insistent.

He blamed Keith.

He blamed the fact that it felt like more than a one night stand. He blamed the fact that they had mutual friends. He blamed the fact that it felt like _they_ could be friends. He blamed the way he felt comfortable around him, like they had known each other for years and not just days. He blamed the potential he felt between them.

It kept Keith on his mind, kept him constant in his thoughts, kept him imagining, kept him wondering.

So really, it was no surprise when he had looked up at the cloudless night and thought of Keith.

And really, he had always had an impulsive side, so it wasn’t really a surprise that he had acted without really thinking this through.

And to be honest, he was a hopeless romantic, so it should surprise no one that he was rolling with his gut on this one.

And that’s how he found himself outside Keith’s hotel room door at eleven o’clock at night, just barely twelve hours after leaving this very same room.

He knocked several times and then stepped back, rocking back and forth on his heels, practically bouncing in his excitement. He clasped his hands behind his back to keep them still.

It took a full, painful thirty seconds for the door to open. Lance would know. He counted them.

“Shiro, I told you I was going to be— Lance?” Keith stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, eyes wide, thick brows raised, lips parted in surprise. He wore a plain t-shirt and those adorable alien pajama pants, bare feet poking out from beneath. Lance’s attention, however, was drawn to the headband, pushing all his hair back and exposing his face in all it’s pale, sun pinkened glory.

Goddamn, he was pretty.

It didn’t help that Lance could see the edges of a few dark bruises peeking out form the collar of his shirt.

Lance grinned, eyeing the headband. “That’s _adorable_.”

Keith scowled, and Lance got the full effect of his thick, furrowed brows and pouty lips. It looked more confused than angry, so he supposed that was a good thing. “Lance, what’re you doing here?”

“Come on,” He said, reaching forward to snatch Keith’s wrist and giving it a little tug.

Keith didn’t budge. “Lance, what—“

“ _Keeeith_ ,” He whined, bouncing and sagging his shoulders. “Let’s go!” He gave his arm another insistent tug.

His brows went up, but he still didn’t move. “Where?”

Lance grinned at that, pout forgotten. “I wanna show you something. Come on!”

He frowned, but there was some resignation there, perhaps even a trickle of excitement, curiosity? Lance would take it. “Okay, but… can I change real quick?”

Lance sighed dramatically, letting go of his wrist. “I _guess_ , but hurry up!”

Keith rolled his eyes, but there was the beginnings of a smile as he turned around. “Whatever, give me a minute.”

Lance waited, energy buzzing through him as he leaned back against the railing, arms crossed over his chest, foot tapping the ground in time to the fingers tapping his arm. When Keith finally emerged, he was dressed in those tight black jeans that Lance was oh so fond of, red converses, and a thick black hoodie that just read “ _I want to believe_ ” What a dork. It was adorable.

“About time!” He grabbed Keith’s wrist again, tugging him toward the parking lot. “Let’s go!”

“Where’re we going?” Keith asked, following after him and rushing to keep up with Lance’s quick pace as he dragged him toward the street.

“You’ll see!” Lance called over his shoulder, laughing at Keith’s disgruntled pout.

They hurried down the street that ran through town, bordered on one side by the lake. Keith seemed to catch onto Lance’s enthusiasm, pace quickening to keep up with him. When it became clear that Lance wasn’t going to give anything away, Keith stopped asking. The lapsed into silence, but it wasn’t strained. It was comfortable, excitement and anticipation buzzing between them, riling them up and pushing them faster, faster, until they were suddenly running and Lance wasn’t sure if he initiated it or if Keith had. Their eyes locked, and they laughed, breathless.

He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but his hand had slipped down from Keith’s wrist to his hand, and their fingers were intertwined. The feeling of Keith’s gloves against his palm was becoming oddly familiar.

Lance led them down to the docks, slipping silently along the pier toward good ol’ dock twenty-seven. Keith was glancing around, chewing his bottom lip. “Are we allowed to be here?” He asked, voice oddly loud and dull in the darkness.

Lance glanced at him, flashing him a grin in the glow of a streetlight. “Would it make you feel better if I said yes?”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Lance laughed, tugging him onto the boat. Keith followed after a slight hesitation. He was reluctant, that much was clear, but it seemed overpowered by something else. Something excited. Something that was riled up by and fed by Lance’s own enthusiasm. Lance hadn’t thought Keith would be someone to be deterred by something as measly as trespassing, or borrowing a boat in the middle of the night that didn’t quite belong to either of them. Turns out, he was right.

“Pidge lent me the keys instead of locking them up.” Lance said, jiggling the keys for emphasis. He finally let go of Keith’s hand, stepping up to the wheel and turning on the boat. “Take a seat.”

Keith did so, sitting in the same place he had the day he went out parasailing. He hunched into his hoodie. “Does she know what you’re planning?”

“Nope,” He said cheerfully, slowly and carefully pulling out of the dock. He went as fast as he dared toward the lake, glancing around in hopes that no one would stop them. He didn’t think they would. No one really knew he wasn’t supposed to be out there, and there were no rules against night boating. Still, paranoia frayed his nerves, adding to the adrenaline that flooded his system.

“How did you get her to agree?”

He cringed. “I agreed to owe her a favor.”

Keith hummed knowingly. “That was probably a mistake.”

“Worth it.”

As soon as they were free of the buoys, Lance sped up, He saw Keith jerk in his seat, hand shooting out to steady himself. Lance laughed, steering out into the middle of the lake as fast as he dared. He snuck a few glances at Keith, admiring his profile in the dim boat lights, watching the way the wind whipped his hair as he squinted into it, a small smile on his lips.

He didn’t stop until they were far from shore. He cut the engine and the lights, leaving them bobbing and at the mercy of the waves. It was eerily silent and dark save for the moon. It felt surreal, like they had suddenly be dropped into a pocket removed from reality, a place solely for them.

He stepped around the boat to where Keith was sitting, silently holding out his hand. Keith eyed it for a moment before slipping his hand into his, almost shyly.

“Is this where you murder me and hide the body?” He asked wryly, and Lance could hear the small smile in his voice.

He tugged him to his feet. “I can see why you’d think that, but no, you’re too pretty to murder.” He winked, but he wasn’t sure Keith could see it. “Come on.” He tugged him toward the back of the boat, stepping up to the raised deck, empty now that the parasail had been folded and put away.

“Lance, what are we—“

“Shhhh,” He shushed him, attempting to put a finger to his lips but missing and only touching the corner. He was, however, able to feel his smile at that, so he supposed it was worth it. He sat down and tugged Keith down with him. Lance laid back, putting his hands behind his head and stretching his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. Keith just eyed him warily. “Come on.”

Keith sighed, giving in and lying down next to him, resting his hands on his stomach. Head turned toward Lance, he frowned. “Now what?”

“Now _look_.” Lance said simply, lifting a hand to gesture upward.

“Whoa…”

Lance grinned and breathed, “Yeah, whoa…” Above them, on the rare cloudless night, with an open sky and no city lights, the dark sky stretched above them, filled to the brim with stars upon stars. “Welcome to the southern hemisphere.”

“This is amazing…” He breathed, voice in complete awe, and when Lance glanced at him, his voice was relaxed and at ease, pouty lips parted.

“Yeah, but you can only really see it when it’s not cloudy.”

“So this is why you dragged me out?” He tilted his head to the side, and Lance wasn’t prepared for the sight of those dark eyes staring right through him.

He quirked a small smile. “Yeah, I usually try to come out here whenever it’s gonna be a good night for it. Nothing but the stars and the water.” He tilted his head back, unable to look at Keith’s face. “It’s… peaceful, you know? Makes you feel small, like all your worries are insignificant. Puts you at ease. I usually come out by myself, but you said you liked the stars, so…”

He glanced back in time to see Keith’s small, honest smile. He felt something in his chest stir. “You had no way of knowing if I’d say yes.”

He shrugged easily. “Nope, but you gotta take these kind of opportunities when they come, you know? Don’t want to live with regrets.”

No regrets indeed. “Thanks for taking the chance.”

“No problem.” He rolled closer, until their shoulders touched and their arms brushed. He tilted his head to bump into the side of Keith’s. “See that? Those stars?” He pointed. “That’s the southern cross they’re so proud of down here.”

Keith hummed, leaning into where they touched. Lance felt electric.

“I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid.” Keith said after a moment, voice pitched barely above a whisper, like anything louder might shatter the moment. Lance was inclined to believe it might. “I liked the idea of getting away… of going somewhere else, with no one around, exploring something new, escaping things here…” There was something heavy there, something that weighed in Lance’s chest.

He nudged Keith playfully. “You just wanted to meet an alien, didn’t you?”

They were close enough that he saw the twitch of a small smile. “That would’ve been cool.” What a dork.

Lance stared up at the stars, hands fingers tapping where his hand rested on his stomach. “I wanted to be an astronaut, too.” He said, and Keith hummed. “I used to have these glow in the dark stars on my ceiling. Still do. I had a telescope and star charts and everything, but it was always just a pipe dream.” He smiled sadly. “I’d miss earth too much to leave. I’d miss the ocean, the beach. I’d miss the little pizza shack by my grandma’s place in Cuba. I’d miss my family, my friends…”

There was a long silence before Keith said, hesitantly, almost too quiet to hear, “If you’d miss them so much, why’re you here?”

Lance sighed at that, unable to tear his eyes from the stars, letting them ground him. “Sometimes you just gotta… get away, you know? Like, sometimes, the things you love, your life… it’s just _too close_ , and you feel… _suffocated_ by it. Life just get… really overwhelming and you don’t know what you want but everyone expects so much and you don’t know what you should do so you…” He laughed then, a short, bitter laugh that bubbled up and threatened to choke him. “So you run away, because that’s all that you’re good at in the end.” He felt the same heavy weight compound in his chest, crushing his lungs, squeezing his heart, but he was unable to stop. The words just fell out of him, unbidden and sorely truthful. Like somehow if they were uttered here, in the dark, alone with Keith and under the stars, they didn’t count. “Sorry to get all sob story on you.” He heard his tone, heard the bitterness of it, but unable to stop it. “I know it sounds really cliche and dumb. Some kid with a good family and a college degree and probably nothing to worry about feeling overwhelmed by life and running away…”

There was a long pause in which Lance counted the gentle crash of waves against the boat.

“I don’t think it’s dumb.”

He tilted his head, frowning at Keith, but the other boy continued to stare at the sky. If it weren’t for the slight furrow in his brows and the tightness around his lips, Lance might have thought he imagined it.

“I’ve… I’ve always liked running.” Keith’s voice was pitched low, and Lance had to strain to hear it as the night swallowed his words. “It helped me just… get away. Helped clear my head. Helped take me away from everything and everyone. Like as long as I was running, nothing could touch me. But then it just… stopped being enough. Shiro convinced me to do these races. They’re helping, I think, but I feel like I’m intruding. Like I’m doing it for the wrong reasons.” As Lance watched, Keith’s lips twisted into a sour frown, the pinch in his brows deepening. The fingers interwoven and resting on his stomach were clenched tight, and there was a strain in his voice that was new. “Like this is Shiro’s thing with Allura and I’m just being selfish and butting in just to cling to him. Because apparently our things don’t last.”

That bitterness, self deprecating and hollow, was something he was all to familiar with. And while he hated seeing such a thing twist Keith’s voice and expression like he was in pain, something in his chest felt lighter because of it. Something that could only come about through understanding. An odd sense of twisted relief.

“You’re afraid he’s going to forget about you once he’s married, aren’t you?” Keith started then, jerking slightly as he turned to look at Lance, eyes wide in the dark and mouth gaping before twisting into a deep frown. Lance gave him a small smile and continued before he could get too mad. “I was the same way when my sister got married. It’s natural to feel that way, I think. Especially if you’re close.”

Keith pursed his lips, dark eyes unreadable as he breathed, “Did she forget about you?”

“Nope,” Lance rolled his head to look up at the stars, so far away, so small, yet covering them like a blanket, keeping them company in the night. “Things are different, yeah, but we’re still close. We just… have different lives now. It’s not a bad thing. It’s just change.”

“I don’t like change…” Keith mumbled, and Lance chuckled.

“Yeah, but not all change is bad. Sometimes things can change for the better.” He glanced sideways then, catching Keith’s eyes and feeling himself being sucked in. He couldn’t see where iris met pupil. They were just dark pools reflecting the moonlight, glistening and beautiful in their own right. “Sometimes when we’re least expecting it.” He murmured the words, almost convinced he had said them in his head and not aloud. Keith just stared back at him, but it looked like he had stopped breathing.

Lance knew the feeling.

He cleared his throat, looking away. “Besides, I don’t think there’s a _wrong_ reason to do an ironman. You do it for you, right? And your reasons are your own. And from what Pidge told me, Shiro started them as a coping mechanism, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it kinda sounds like you did, too.” He shrugged, feeling his shoulder rub against Keith’s. “So maybe you’re a lot more alike than you think. Any way you look at it, it’s impressive, and you should be proud of yourself for doing it. It’s a lot of dedication and hard work.”

Keith didn’t respond right away, and Lance didn’t push him. Then he felt a hand brushing against his, and he slid their fingers together, resting them on his chest.

“Thanks, Lance.”

“No problem, dude.”

They laid there, pressed from nearly shoulder to ankle, pointing out stars. Lance told him of some of the constellations, and Keith pointed out a few that he knew. Then they started to make up their own, complete with breathy laughs and playful shoves. They lay in comfortable silence, content to be stuck in the voice between water and stars, wrapped up in silence but not quite alone. Together they existed in a pocket of reality, one that belonged to them and them alone. The stars stretched wide, engulfing them as the boat rocked them gently. Lance found himself committing the moment to memory. The feel of Keith’s hand, warm in his own.

“Are you nervous about Saturday?” He asked, whispering in fear of shattering their small reality.

“A little.”

“Anything specific, or—“

“The swim.” A pause, then almost sheepishly. “I didn’t know how to swim before I started training. I had to learn… Allura taught me. I was… I used to be afraid of the water. And I’m not the best at it, so…”

Lance chuckled. “If we had more time, we could practice together. I’m a pretty strong swimmer, you know.” He playfully rubbed Keith’s shoulder with his own.

He could practically _feel_ him rolling his eyes. A trait he no doubt picked up from Pidge. “Of course you are.” He heard the smile in his voice. “You’re the River Man.”

“River MaaAAAN!” He sang, turning on his side, to wrap Keith up with an arm and a leg. They both laughed, letting the moment dwindle back down into natural silence. But Lance remained where he was, half wrapped around him. Keith leaned into him, scooting just a little closer.

“Are you going to be around on Saturday?”

Lance shrugged. “Originally I was gonna leave town cause it gets pretty crowded on race day, you know? But I think I might stay to at least watch the beginning. A friend of ours has a sailboat, the one with the red sails, can’t miss it, and she offered to take us out to watch the swim.”

Keith hummed, and Lance watched him watch the stars. The porcelain of his skin pale in the moonlight, eyes dark as the night. Lashes and brows dark against his skin, hair pushed back to put his entire profile on display. The relaxed smile that looked warm and inviting on his lips.

Lance had a feeling he wasn’t going anywhere on race day.

 

* * *

 

Keith couldn’t sleep.

He’d always had a problem sleeping when he was anxious, and without the distraction of Lance close at hand, his nerves about the race were starting to seep through the cracks. It had been a day since he’d seen Lance, but that day had dragged on. His thoughts were bittersweet. He both reveled in his memories of the boy, but with each passing minute he seemed to slip further away, like a dream that would soon fade to distant memory. Conjuring his face in his mind’s eye brought with it a fluttering in his stomach and a clenching of his chest.

He was, plain and simple, a mess. Thoughts of Lance swirled together with his anxiousness of the race, mingling with his apprehension of going home to an empty apartment for the first time. It was a cacophony of emotions, good and bad, mixing and meshing and keeping his mind racing long into the night. His brain wouldn’t settle, keeping his body awake.

When he finally did manage to sleep, it was fitful and restless. He woke in the early hours of the morning and laid awake in the dark, staring at his ceiling and groaning in frustration.

Normally, in circumstances like this, he would go for a run. But he wasn’t allowed to run. Not while he was on Shiro’s strict pre-race taper. Still, he felt restless lying in bed, his skin itching and crawling with the need to get out, to move.

He threw his blanket back and got dressed, grabbing his hoodie to ward off the early morning chill. No point in sleeping in too long. He’d have to get up early on race morning anyway.

He wandered in the pre-dawn darkness, feeling the odd stillness of the world comforting. He crossed the street, walking along the sidewalk along the long expanse of the lakeside, eventually finding a bench. The breeze was gentle, riling up soft waves on the lake’s surface. It looked peaceful enough now, but he knew that on race day, when it was filled with bodies and he was up close and personal with the waves, it would be a different story. It always was. He had gotten over his fear of the water, but that didn’t mean he was at ease.

His thoughts once again drifted back to Lance. Lance would be at ease in the water. He’d seen Lance swim. It was like the man was built for the water.

One hand lifted, and he didn’t realize what he was doing until his fingers were pressing against the front of his hoodie, pushing the pendant beneath against his sternum. He felt foolish. He’d told Shiro and Allura that the necklace was for him when he bought it. He knew it wasn’t. He hadn’t been planning on buying anything at one of the many jade shops in town, but while he was waiting for them to look around, he had seen it and just… impulse.

His heart had pounded at the thought of it, an excited fluttering filling his chest. But now he just felt… stupid.

He didn’t know what he was thinking. Lance, probably. Lance and his stupid smile. Lance and his stupid blue eyes. Lance and his easy laugh. Lance and the way he put Keith at ease. Lance and the way he made Keith feel better about nearly everything after doing absolutely nothing to pry open his thoughts. Lance and his—

“Keith?”

Keith jumped, twisting around in his seat.

“Lance?”

it was him alright. He stood on the sidewalk, dressed for a run, breathing heavily and skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. Keith gaped at him. He ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up on end as he straightened, a bright grin taking over his face.

“It _is_ you! I’d know that mullet anywhere.”

Keith scowled, reaching up a hand to self consciously tug on a few strands of hair.

Lance laughed, walked across the grass to his bench and playfully slapping his hand away. “Don’t worry about it. I like it. It’s good for pulling.” He winked, and Keith felt like his face was on fire. He looked away, eyes drifting toward the lake.

Sunrise was close, the horizon lightening and casting the sun’s first rays out across the waters. The world was still in that odd stage where it’s brightening to a new day, but the peaceful calm of night still remains. Where most people are asleep and only the birds are there to fill the silence. Where it feels like you can be in a space between time, where nothing could touch you because the realities of the day hadn’t yet set in.

He’d always liked having these moments to himself, to think and exist without the pressure of life pushing on him, getting under his skin. But as Lance threw himself down onto the bench next to him, he found that for once, he didn’t mind the company.

Not one bit.

“Fancy meeting you here.” He said, stretching out his legs and propping his elbows on back of the bench. His lips were curved into an easy smile.

One Keith found himself returning. “I could say the same for you.”

And despite the fact that they hadn’t known each other for long. Despite the fact that they had slept together. Despite the fact that he hadn’t seen him in an entire day. Nothing felt awkward. He was starting to wonder if he was even capable of feeling awkward around Lance. Nervous? Oddly giddy? Anxious an almost positive way? Yes. But not awkward.

“What’re you doing here at this hour?” He asked.

Lance shrugged. “I usually go for runs in the morning. It’s peaceful, you know?” Keith hummed his agreement. “Then I usually go back and shower before meeting Hunk for coffee before work.” Keith nodded. “I really like coming out early. The lake is usually really calm and peaceful before all the boats go out. It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is.”

They lapsed into a silence that was comfortable. The lake’s waters weren’t as mirror calm as they had been the first couple days he had been here. There was a breeze that whipped up small, playful waves. As Keith watched them bounce the buoys, he thought back to hearing them lap against the side of the boat in the darkness, surrounded by stars and the warmth of a boy that set his chest on fire.

“What about you?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you here?”

Keith shrugged, slouching a little lower on the bench, hands shoving deep into his hoodie pockets. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He didn’t look at Lance, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the way his head tilted, saw the makings of a kind smile, and when he spoke, his voice was soft with sympathy. “Still nervous?”

Keith shrugged again. It’s wasn’t a hundred percent why he couldn’t sleep, but he didn’t really want to admit to the other parts. The parts about Shiro, about home. The parts about Lance himself. So he just replied with a simple but reluctant, “Maybe…”

“Oh! That reminds me!” He was moving them, sitting up straight and reaching beneath his shirt. Keith eyed him sideways, curious. As he watched, Lance grabbed a black cord around his neck and pulled it over his head. Holding it out, the green of the jade shone in the early morning light, dangling innocently between them. “I got this for you!”

Keith’s eyebrows went up at that, eyes wide in… shock? It had to have been. His heart tripped over itself, speeding up into double time and bruising the inside of his ribs. His breath was coming short, thick in his lungs. He blinked, mouth working but no sounds coming out. Lance was grinning at him, so bright and open and innocent and so very _honest_.

“What?” Not the most eloquent thing to say, but it was what came out.

Lance’s smile faltered, shrinking into something more shy, uncertain. “They’re, uh, like symbols of New Zealand. See, they’re made from _pounamu_ , which is a type of jade from here that has roots deep in Maori culture. And now they make these necklaces in these specific shapes, some of them inspired from actual Maori symbols. It’s kind of a big touristy thing now, but, like… It’s pretty cool?” He scratched the back of his neck, eyes suddenly unable to focus on Keith’s face. They flickered everywhere, not staying in one spot for more than a couple seconds. “This one is the _hei-matau_ , or the fish hook, and it’s supposed to give the wearer strength, good luck, and safe travels across water.” His smile widened a fraction, before faltering once again. “Cause I know you were nervous about the swim…”

Keith couldn’t do anything besides stare. He wasn’t even sure he was breathing. It certainly wasn’t something he was thinking about. His thoughts weren’t in the form of words. They were just a baseline buzzing, loud and consistent and could be misconstrued as a scream. He felt lightheaded. He licked his lips, voice uncertain in his attempt to keep it from shaking. He was proud when it came out a lot calmer than what he was feeling. “You… bought this… for me?”

Lance’s smile remained fixed in place, but it was strained, not quite meeting his eyes. He fidgeted, free hand tapping restlessly at his leg, feet tapping the ground. The hand holding the necklace lowered a fraction. “I, uh… yeah,” He laughed, the sound nervous and strained. “I thought you could use it. Good luck, you know?”

“And you were just… carrying it around?”

More fidgeting. Eyes flickering away, unable to look at him. The necklace lowered a little more. “Well, I wasn’t sure when I’d see you again, so I just started wearing it around in case I ran into you? Heh, and it looked like I did, so… good plan, me?” Keith didn’t answer. He didn’t think he could. He felt like his brain had stopped working. Short circuited and fizzled out. His mind was left drifting in a void, unable to fully grasp what was happening. He did notice, however, when Lance’s smile fell altogether. “Sorry if this is weird. It’s probably weird, right? We don’t know each other very well, but I just thought— doesn’t matter.” His words sped up with each one, faster and faster, rambling quicker than Keith could really keep up. “I should’ve known this would be weird. Sorry. I don’t even know if you’d be able to wear it on race day?” The hand with the necklace started to pull back. “It’s okay if you don’t want it. I can—“

“No!” Keith’s hand shot out, snatching the necklace from him. Lance gaped at him, eyebrows rising toward his hairline. His face was carefully blank. Keith felt heat rising to his cheeks. He looked down at the pendant in his hands, fingertips reverently running over the smooth surface. He cleared his throat. “I mean… I want it. Thank you.”

Lance scratched the back of his neck, glancing away. Keith didn’t look up at him, but he heard the small smile in his voice. “Yeah, no problem, dude.”

Taking a deep breath, Keith reached up and pull the black cord around his neck over his head, holding it out toward Lance. He couldn’t look at him. Just held it out in the cavernous space between them. “I, uh…” His mouth felt so dry. He cleared his throat, straightening as he pushed on with as much calm confidence as he could muster. “I got you something, too.”

Silence.

The necklace felt like deadweight where it dangled from Keith’s hand.

“It’s, uh, the spiral one… The signs at the jade place said it was supposed to represent harmony? Or something? Like, balance and peace. And I just… thought of you out here, trying to figure stuff out or whatever, and I just… yeah….” He ducked his head, thumb of his other hand rubbing over the fish hook pendant in his hand, staring at the jade like it’s green depths might swallow him whole and save him from this embarrassment.

Careful fingers slowly, gingerly, took the offered necklace from him, fingertips brushing over his own.

After a moment, Keith cast a wary glance sideways. The necklace was around Lance’s neck, fingers reverently turning the spiral pendant around and around, brushing its smooth surface as if it might break but like he was unable to stop. The look on his face was soft, lips upturned, eyes half lidded, so relaxed—

Keith had to look away, heart lodging in his throat as a fluttering giddiness flipped his stomach over. His lungs were working at half capacity.

“Thank you…” He muttered.

Keith nodded stiffly.

They sat in a silence that was strained, but not uncomfortable, heartbeats slowing to normal paces as they watched the sunrise over the lake. As the world came to life around them. As car started moving on the street and voices filled the air, muted and wordless. As birds herald in the light and boats took to the lake.

Still they sat, existing in their own small pocket of space, just the two of them, unable to be touched by anything and anyone. The fish hook pendant was a comforting weight against his sternum, the residual warmth from Lance’s chest seeping into his own.

Time ticked by, but they didn’t say anything, afraid to break whatever was building between them.

And if they leaned a little closer until their shoulders brushed, neither of them said anything.

 

* * *

 

The days leading up to the race were a special kind of chaotic that Keith was familiar with from his own halves and Shiro’s races. They were a strange mix of hectic and incredibly boring.

They had to check in, browse and wander through the ironman village practically four times a day, chat with Shiro and Allura’s athlete friends as they came into town, look over the bike and run courses, buy merchandise, make sure all their shit for the races were together and in their race bags, make sure their bikes were ready to go and checked in, check and double check and triple check their race day essentials, and then wait an hour or two between each activity where they wandered around, ate, or just sat in their hotel rooms, waiting, waiting, waiting.

It was a start-stop business that he didn’t bother to keep track of. Shiro and Allura were the ones with the schedules memorized, the ones who had done this several times before. He just let himself be dragged around.

He didn’t see Lance in those days.

He didn’t want to admit that he was disappointed by that fact, but if he was being honest with himself, that was exactly how he was feeling.

He found his fingers constantly playing with the fish hook pendant, his eyes constantly scanning the crowds when they were out in town, and he didn’t really realize what he was looking for until his heart jumped at the sight on short brown hair or dark skin, only for it to sink when he realized it wasn’t who he thought it was. The butterflies in his gut always turned sour, whenever he realized he couldn’t find those blinding eyes, the breathtaking smile. Still, that didn’t stop him from looking, from hoping, from searching for fragments of his increasingly familiar outline.

More times than not, he found his gaze drifting toward the direction of the lake, following the slow path of the rainbow parasail across the sky.

Both Shiro and Allura noticed his shift in mood, but no doubt chalked it up to nerves. He was fine with them thinking that. It was easier than explaining his growing attachment to Lance, a boy he barely knew, a boy whom he met while they were on vacation, a boy who was sweet and beautiful just like this country, and just like this country, he was a boy he’d have to leave eventually.

He tried to tell himself that he was being ridiculous. Lance was nothing more than a chance meeting. Did they get along? Yes. Did he enjoy being around Lance? Obviously. Did he think they had potential to be more? Probably. But the point remained that it didn’t matter.

Already in the few days he hadn’t seen him, he was fading to memory. The further he got from the situation, the more reality set in, seeping through the cracks of the fragile, happy bubble he had created. The memories felt more like a dream, growing hazy at the edges with age, slipping into the recesses of his mind, being filed away as a story for a later day. Even the bruises on his collarbone and the scratches on his back were fading away. Only the comforting weight of the pendent around his neck remained to give sharp clarity to the memories of Lance. That it wasn’t a dream. That for brief moments, Lance was his reality. Small pockets of happiness, bright and serene in the dull gray of his reality.

He didn’t know if anything more might happen between them. He could hope that the exchanged necklaces were a promise of potential, but the more time went on, the more he had a sinking feeling they were more of a talisman of remembrance. He didn’t know if anything could happen between them. Didn’t know if he wanted it to. He didn’t know if Lance would stick around for his race, if he’d even see the boy again. And if he did stick around? What would it change? The fact remained that Keith would leave next week, and Lance would remain. He’d forget about him and probably find another tourist to invest his time in.

He was used to people coming in and out of his life, but it rarely gave him this hollow feeling in his chest, compounding in on the similar feeling already there from the daunting reality of Shiro moving out, which was stacked on top of the distant hollowness he experienced when Pidge left for months.

The hollow feeling was sickening, squeezing the breath from him and twisting his heart in his chest. It loosened a fraction when he thought of Lance, of the night they shared, of his wide array of expressions, of that smile focused on _him_. It was a good distraction from the reality that darkened the horizon.

The day before the race, he went out to lunch with Pidge. Excitement and anticipation bubbled in his gut, coiling and sparking with hope, only to fizzle and wither when Lance didn’t come with her.

He pushed past the feeling to salvage his time with her as much as he could. He had missed her, and he felt stronger when he was with her. She was a cornerstone in his foundation, and their quick witted conversations, playful jabs, and the dry humor they shared lifted his spirits. Only to have them droop again when she was gone. He looked forward to her coming home. They talked about the possibility of moving in together in Shiro’s absence. He hoped that maybe that might cut the looming loneliness that threatened to choke him whenever he thought of his eerily empty apartment.

That night, while he and Shiro were walking back to the hotel, having left Allura to spend time with Coran, he saw them. Lance, Hunk, and Pidge. They were walking up the hill from the docks, bags slung over their shoulders, hands shoved in their pockets. They laughed, they elbowed each other, they created such a warm atmosphere of friendship and happiness between them that Keith felt the greeting die in his throat. He couldn’t approach them. He felt like he couldn’t intrude. He wasn’t sure if it was his place. Wasn’t sure if it ever would be.

As he watched Lance smile, he felt light and breathless, even as his stomach dropped and twisted.

So he ducked his head and sped up his pace, leaving Shiro to watch him curiously but, thankfully, silently.

On race day, all thoughts of Lance were gone, replaced by the nervous anticipation of the race and the day ahead. He was awake when his alarm went off, and fully dressed with his bags packed and checked by the time Allura knocked on his door. Making sure he had all his bottles from the fridge and with one last searching gaze over his shoulder, he left his room.

The walk to the ironman village was surreal. People flooded the streets, athletes and spectators, all of them filing and funneling into one place. He and Shiro slipped into the transition area, making sure all their things were in order before rejoining Allura.

Thirty hectic minutes later, they were both in their wetsuits and standing in the massive crowd down by the race start, with little memory for how he got there. HIs stomach was a mess of nerves, his heart unable to slow down. This was real. It was happening. It was race day. He’d spend all day moving, pushing forward, going, going, going, pushing his body to the limit and perhaps beyond that. There were people all around him, half of them shifting nervously in wetsuits and the other bundled in jackets and holding cameras.

He stared out at the lake. The wind was bad this morning. He’d heard it all throughout the night, howling and moaning and filling him with dread. Now it riled up waves on the lake that had once been like glass. Something trickled through his chest at the sight of it, coiling low and anxious in his gut. The fish hook pendant was under his clothes, beneath his wetsuit, pressed firmly and snuggly against his sternum, a comforting weight. He used it as a focal point, holding him anchored in his otherwise chaotic emotions and physical anxieties.

The pros were already in the lake, treading water by the starting buoys. They would go fifteen minutes before everyone else. The water was riddled with small boats, jet skis, and paddle boards. All the volunteers that would be there to pull people out if they needed help. Beyond them, beyond the buoys, was a sailboat with red sails. Keith couldn’t see anything more than the outline of people aboard, and he briefly wondered if Lance was among them.

The canon went out, a loud, startling _BANG_ that made everyone jump. And then the male pros were swimming. Keith felt the buzz of adrenaline sparking through his system, giving him a strange out of body experience. Five minutes later, _BANG_ , and the female pros were gone. Suddenly the crowd surged as people started to flood into the lake, getting used to the water and taking their places by the start in anticipation of the third bang.

A hand fell on his shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. He looked up to find Shiro smiling at him, that small, knowing, warm smile that had gotten him through so much in his life. “You ready?” He asked, voice pitched low, a hint of concern and his own nervousness there, but buzzing with underlying excitement.

Keith gave him a wry smile. “As I’ll ever be.”

He chuckled, squeezing Keith’s shoulder. “Just remember, patience yields focus.”

Keith’s smile turned fond. “As if I could forget.”

“Don’t worry, you’ve got this.”

He hugged Keith before hugging Allura, giving her a short but sweet kiss. She hugged Keith, too, whispering _good luck!_ in his ear before pulling away. She left them then to claim a spot higher on the hill to take pictures. Giving him a smile, Shiro headed to the water, and Keith followed with his feet on autopilot.

The water was cold. The second it lapped at his feet, shivers ran through him, washing over him with an odd sense of calm. The same all encompassing calm that set in at every race. It flooded through him, chasing away all other thoughts, stilling his buzzing nerves, unclenching his gut, and putting him at peace. He dropped quickly and gratefully into the familiar zone, the state of mind and body that could carry him throughout the race, keeping him going all day. He watched Shiro wade into the lake without turning back, knowing that he, too, was dropping into his zone. He closed his eyes, breathing in the crisp morning air until his lungs burned with it before letting it go. He opened his eyes, determined and sharp and fixed on the lake.

He could do this.

 

* * *

 

“Lance, you’re gonna fall in the water.” Hunk whined from safely in the middle of the boat.

Lance snorted from where he stood at the edge of the boat, holding onto the ropes and leaning out over the water. “Good thing I know how to swim, then, huh?” He grinned over his shoulder.

Shay put a hand on Hunk’s arm, smiling at him. “Let him have his fun.” She winked at Lance, and he gave her a little salute before turning back.

The shore was littered with people. All the way down, but clustered thickest near the race start. The turn out was crazy. He had _known_ there were a couple thousand people racing, which of course meant a few more thousand spectators, but to _see_ that mass of people was an entirely different story.

When the canon went off, Lance nearly fell off the boat. He decided not to lean that far out after that.

He watched the two waves of pros go out before a mass of people started wading into the lake, all in black wetsuits and all wearing swim caps in a small variety of colors. He squinted into the madness. It was… a lot harder to tell everyone apart at this distance, when they were all bobbing in the water, and they were all wearing swim caps. Keith was a lot easier to spot when he could see his hair.

The wind tugged at his hair and his jacket. He spared a glance at the waves, biting at his bottom lip. A hand found it’s way to his chest, fingers wrapping around the jade pendant. The water was choppier than it had been in days. He really hoped Keith would be alright.

The third canon went off, and the lake erupted in movement.

He was a swimmer. He had been to many, many swim meets. He’d been in surfing competitions. He’d been to busy beaches. He’d been a lifeguard at busy pools in the heart of summer. He’d gone tubing down crowded rivers. He was no stranger to water in any shape or form. But nothing compared him for the sight of hundreds upon hundred of bodies suddenly in motion, all identical at this distance, and all headed in the same direction in the same short space around the buoys.

It was, quite frankly, terrifying.

The water churned, arms coming up and dipping back down, feet kicking, splashing. He could have sworn he saw people swim over top each other. How did they swim like _that_? That was _terrifying_. He gripped his pendant a little tighter.

While they started out as a wide wall of swimmers, slowly funneling into a thinner line the further they got out, hugging the line of yellow buoys.

Shay steered the boat along the swim course, keeping with the head of the line. They passed the pros after they had turned around and were headed back. The ship bobbed and rocked against the waves, and Lance spent the entire time leaning over the railing, eyes locked on the chaos in the water.

“Lance you’re not going to find him.” Pidge said, arms crossed over the railing next to him and chin resting on them.

“You don’t know that.”

“Statistically, I do. They all look the same. In fact, they barely look like people. Just a bunch of long limbed fish splashing around.”

“You have a point, but I can still try.”

He didn’t end up finding him, though he had a few guesses. He and Pidge made a game out of pointing out certain swimmers and speculating whether they were Keith or Shiro. He didn’t think they were ever right, but it was fun to try.

Once the main mass of swimmers started reaching the swim finish, Shay steered the boat back to the docks. Lance was a _little_ disappointed he couldn’t spot Keith, but he knew it couldn’t be helped.

As it turned out, the path from the swim finish up the hill to the transition area led right by the docks, on the sidewalk across the street. It was sectioned off with traffic cones and everything. So their little group sat around on the dock-side of the sidewalk, watching the athletes run by. They came in groups, individually, in pairs. They were in all different states. Some looked confident, some looked fine, others looked completely wrecked. Some sprinted along the path, some jogged like it pained them, some walked. Some were out of breath and some barely looked like they were tired at all. It was fascinating to see.

And as they passed, Lance could finally get a glimpse of who they were beneath the uniform of the swim. Some of them had peeled off their swim caps, some had their wetsuits unzipped, some had them peeled back to the waist. And this close, they were actually able to see their faces. It gave the athletes fractions of individuality, giving them glimpses of the people rather than a mob of black suited bodies.

They hung close together, huddled in their hoodies and jackets against the windchill, each of them craving some good, hot coffee, but none of them willing to move just yet. Pidge was no doubt on the edge of crashing from caffeine deprivation, but she was just as stubborn as he was about catching sight of Keith. He stared hard at each athletes face, seeing their bodies first before staring hard at their faces. There was no guarantee Keith would take off his swim cap, and Lance _refused_ to miss him.

He should have known Keith would tear that thing off as soon as he was out of the water.

“There!” Pidge shouted, small fingers grabbing Lance’s arm. His head whipped around, sitting up straight, gaze following Pidge’s pointing finger—

Keith was running up the path from the shore at a steady jog, his wetsuit was unzipped a little but still on, and _damn_ did he look fine in that skin tight suit. The swim cap was off, clutched in one hand with his goggles, his hair in a wet, matted bun. His face was set, eyes staring ahead, determined lines far too fixed for him to look completely relaxed, but not enough to make him look tense of wrecked. He just looked… well, he was hot. He looked like he was in the zone, lips part as he breathed, head held high, and Lance felt it shoot right through him, from his heart to his dick.

 _Hot damn_ , the boy was fucking gorgeous.

Lance leapt to his feet just a second after Pidge, both of them throwing their arms up.

“Keith!”

 _”Keith!_ ”

He started, head jerking, eyes blinking as he turned his head, look on his face almost perplexed as he focused in on them, like he couldn’t quite register who they were and why they were there. Lance knew that feeling, where you’re so far in your _zone_ that outside stimuli that grab your attention are startling.

“You did it, man!” Lance shouted. “You made it out of the water!”

“You made that swim your _bitch_!” Pidge yelled.

Keith’s eyes lit up as he _grinned_ , wide and beautiful and _blinding_ , and Lance felt himself go weak at the knees. Keith laughed, and Lance wrapped an arm around Pidge’s shoulders as they both jumped and waved, subtly using her for support as this fucking boy turned his world upside down.

Keith waved at them before turning back to the path, speeding up to match his previous pace. The smile remained fixed on his face.

Lance was not ashamed to admit he watched his ass until he was out of sight.

 

* * *

 

His knees burned, but it was a pleasant sort of burn. One that meant he was working, expending energy, _moving_. And any unpleasantries that came along with it were drowned out by the sensation of the wind whipping at his clothes, brushing past his cheeks, and attempting to get at his hair beneath his helmet as he flew down the road.

Nothing but him and the pavement…. and the couple thousand other races… and the hundreds upon hundreds of spectators lining the road through town.

But they could all be easily ignored. And they were. When he was in the zone, everything else faded to white noise and background movement. He kept aware of the athletes he was passing and the ones passing him, but everything else faded away. He barely heard the cowbells, distantly registered the cheers, hardly saw the waving hands and flailing signs.

Just him. His bike. And the pavement.

Sometimes, when he was going fast enough, he could almost pretend that he was on his motorcycle. With the wind in his face and the uplifting feeling of _freedom_ coursing hot through his veins. Almost, though. The fact that he never stopped pedaling, even on the downhills, kind of detracted from that illusion.

Still, he found the bike to be the most fun leg of the race.

The swim was terrifying. The bike was the longest but most fun. And the run was the most comforting because he could easily run for hours.

Shiro didn’t like the bike. It was his best leg of the race, and he made up for a lot of time during it. His powerful legs were built for it. But he found it boring as hell to be on the bike for hours upon hours. Not Keith. He reveled in the feeling, the adrenaline, the burn. He constantly pushed himself faster, egged on by the knowledge that he could beef it at any moment scrape his ass across the pavement. He liked speed, and the bike could give that to him.

He’d lost sight of Shiro before the race had even really began. As soon as they were both in the water, swim caps on and treading water, everyone looked the same. Then the canon had gone off and it was chaos. He didn’t have time to think about Shiro. All he could do was swim with the pack, pray no one swam over him, and just keep going. Keep kicking. Keep his strokes even. Keep breathing. Ignore the occasional inhale of water. Keep going. Follow the pack. It would be over soon.

And then it was.

Nothing save for the finish line gave him the same amount of relief as climbing out of the water after the swim. While in the lake he felt like he was on his last stretch of life, as soon as he was out, he was reinvigorated with newfound energy. So much so, that he had jogged all the way up to transition.

And if he got an even bigger boost of energy from seeing Pidge and Lance cheering him on from the sidelines? Well… he wasn’t going to tell them.

Despite having all the time in the world to think, he blissfully didn’t. When he was in the zone, his mind went blank, like white noise, a state of static nothingness. Nothing besides the physical strain and drive to keep going. He fell into a pattern, unable to stop his movements even if he wanted to. He just kept going. Occasionally he had to remind himself to eat and drink to stay on top of his nutrition, but even that was like clockwork, drilled into him by Allura’s training. He stared at the road. He stared at the scenery, at the rolling New Zealand hills. And his mind remained pleasantly hollow and content.

It was honestly a bit like meditation for him. When his body was busy, pushing itself to its limits, his mind was able to clear, to focus, to simply exist in a state without outside stimuli. Anything other than immediate worries faded away. All the stress in his life melted off him, left behind on the road. Nothing seemed to matter, and for once, his thoughts were quiet and harmless. Perhaps that’s why he kept doing these races, kept training for more. They gave him a feeling of accomplishment, kept him close to his brother, and took away his troubles, if only for a little while. A win-win.

Whoever said you couldn’t run from your problems had obvious never tried.

But while his mind stayed blissfully blank while he was on the outskirts of the course, his thoughts started buzzing when he got closer to town again. The bike course was an out and back, twice, so part of it was back to the ironman village before looping around and heading back out. Which meant he had to go right through the center of town where hundreds of people lined the streets to cheer on athletes.

He’d been in this situation before. He could ignore them all easily. It wasn’t as peaceful as the outer course, away from town, but he could deal.

The problem was that was he got closer to town, the more he thought about Lance. He had said he was going to leave town after the swim, hadn’t he? So there was no reason for Keith to hold out hope that Lance would still be there, would be watching. There was no reason for him to care. What was one moment of seeing someone’s face and a second of hearing a cheer before moving on? It was frivolous, unnecessary. And yet…

Hope was a fickle thing that rarely listened to his own logic.

As he reached a strip where volunteers stood along the side with rows of bottles, he held out his hand, swiping a bottle of water from the man who jogged alongside him for a moment. He immediately popped it open with his teeth, squeezing some into his mouth before dumping some down his back. The sun was high in the sky now, and despite the wind, he was far too warm for comfort. The water, though luke warm at best, was a blissful relief. He tossed the bottle to the side in the dump zone.

He got a little disoriented when he realized he was scanning the crowd for familiar faces, and shook his head, focusing back on the road. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if his friends were there. They were just a momentary distraction. This race was all about him and the road and the distance. It didn’t matter. It didn’t—

“ _—eith!_ ”

His head snapped up, eyes wide and frantically searching the sidelines until—

Lance was practically jumping up and down, wide, bright smile that sent something shooting right through Keith’s chest. Eyes scrunched up and sparkling in the mid afternoon light, jacket flapping around him as he flailed. He was calling out Keith’s name, wordless screaming, and had somehow managed to get one of those obnoxious cowbells and was flapping it rapidly.

God, he hated those things.

But he didn’t hate it when Lance did it.

He noticed Pidge next, sitting atop Hunk’s shoulders, holding up a sign that read _”GOTTA GO FAST”_ like the little dork she was. Hunk was cheering, too, friendly smile wide and he bounced from foot to foot, Pidge swaying precariously above him. There were a couple others around them that Keith didn’t recognize, but their eyes were locked on him and cheering for _him_.

He saw Allura next. She was leaning over the sidewalk, hands cupped to her mouth as she screamed words of encouragement that he couldn’t quite understand amongst everything else. But her eyes were sparking like fire and fierce pride. She wore a shirt that read “ _SHIROGANE/KOGANE SUPPORT CREW_ ”. Coran held onto the back of her jacket with one hand to keep her from jumping into the road, while the other waved frantically as he shouted, thick mustache bouncing above his wide grin.

The last thing he heard as he whizzed by was Lance shouting his name.

As predicted, the moment only lasted seconds. He rushed past them at high speed, barely able to hear anything they said and barely able to do more than glance at them. But something had changed. The steady fire of determination flared inside him, filling him with a newfound vigor that course red hot through his veins, quelling and dulling the ache in his muscles. He found himself smiling.

Turns out, it did matter.

 

* * *

 

Keith was running on autopilot.

He’d started his run out strong, despite his legs feeling like jelly, and once he had gotten out of town, his run had slowed to a more consistent jog, which he had held for nearly ten miles before it had slowed into a pace that could barely be considered above a walk. From there, it didn’t take him long to give up the act and just walk. He was headed out of town again. The run course ran along a similar route as the bike in and out of town, but much shorter. And it was four loops total. The two bands on his arm were heavy weights, reminders that he still had half the run to go.

He was headed out of town, the sun getting lower on the horizon. The crowds had thinned somewhat since midday, but there were still quite a few people around. His friends had moved around to different spots, so it was hard to keep track of where to find them. He stopped trying. He was tired, drained, body aching and mind sore. He was at the point in the race where he started to question why he was doing this at all. Regrets ran rampant while he berated himself for choosing to do this. He just wanted to stop, to sleep, to _rest_.

Yet he kept going, feet moving one in front of the other like constant clockwork, unable to stop even if he told them to. He felt it in his bones, the preprogramming in his muscles. He’d been at it so long, that stopping wasn’t really an option. No matter how much he hated it, he’d keep going, keep going, don’t look at anything, eyes on the ground, keep going, keep—

“Are you an athlete? Cause you’ve been running through my mind all day.”

He tilted his head to the side, eyes finding blue ones, dark and deep in the shadows of the setting sun. His smile was small, but no less brilliant. Cocky and sure, confident and calm. The sight of it was oddly grounding, despite being incredibly surreal in that moment.

“Lance,” He breathed, barely able to recognize his own voice. He hadn’t spoken all day, and his voice was hoarse from disuse.

His smirk softened, eyes relaxing with concern. When he spoke, his voice was quieter, kinder, soothing. “Hey, you doing okay?”

He shrugged, shifting his eyes forward again. “As okay as I can be.”

“You look like you’re dying a bit.”

He felt a small, wry smile curve his lips. “That’s what it feels like.”

“Well… despite looking like you’re going through hell, you’re doing great. You _look_ great, too. Like hot damn. That ass just won’t quit.”

He winked, and Keith rolled his eyes, feeling the flush of pleased embarrassment somewhere in the back of his mind, but far too tired to let it rise to the surface. Still, it felt good to smile. For a moment, walking with Lance, the discomforts of his body faded to the background. He wasn’t bored out of his mind. It was comfortable, despite everything.

“Am I even allowed to walk with you like this? I’ve seen a couple other people do it, but I wasn’t sure,” He was saying, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as he looked around, chewing his bottom lip in a way that was nothing short of a adorable. “I don’t want to get you in trouble or anything…”

Keith shrugged. “As long as it’s not for long, I don’t think they care.”

Lance relaxed. “Okay, cool. I just wanted to like, come say hi. You looked like you could use the company.” Keith hummed in appreciation and agreement. “You didn’t even notice us this time around.”

He looked at him then, eyebrow raised. “I already passed you guys?”

Lance chuckled. gesturing over his shoulder with a thumb. “Yeah, we were back there. You didn’t even look up.”

Keith’s shoulder hunched a little. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you guys. You don’t really hear much of anything when you’re out here.”

“Hey, it’s no problem, man. I get it.”

“Have you seen Shiro? I haven’t seen him since we got in the water this morning, but I think I passed him a couple times on the loops.”

“Yeah, he came by not too long ago. He’s not too far ahead of you. Allura thinks he’s taking it easy cause he doesn’t look that wrecked.”

Keith snorted. Of course his brother was taking it easy. Giving him a chance to catch up. “He’s an idiot.”

“Maybe, but his heart’s in the right place.”

They lapsed into a small silence. A few people jogged past them. Spectators were walking along the sidewalk next to him, where Lance was. Everything was calming down a little, the energy dipping. He could feel himself nearing the end. The anticipation of the finish.

“Why’re you here?” Keith asked after a moment, too tired to hold back the question that had been plaguing him all night.

Lance shrugged, weight back as he walked with his hands in his pockets. “Seemed like a good time, and Pidge and Hunk wanted to stay, so why not, you know?” Keith tried not to think too hard about the weight sinking in his stomach. Why not indeed. “And also…” He continued, pausing as he turned to Keith with a small smile. “I wanted to see you in action. Plus, Shiro has his own personal cheering section. I figured you deserved one, too.”

“You’re all cheering for both of us.”

“Yeah, but you deserved someone who’s not just proud of you and excited for you, but also a little turned on and willing to watch your ass as you run away.” Keith turned to gap at him, a mixture of feelings and thoughts bubbling and fighting for attention. Before he could say anything, however, Lance glanced around and leaned in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. When he pulled away, he was grinning, eyes crinkled in mischief. “Good luck with the rest of the race! See you at the finish line, hot shot.” And with a wink and wave, he pivoted on his heel and jogged back toward their friends.

Keith watched him go over his shoulder, unable to stop the forward momentum of his feet. His cheeks ached from smiling, and he picked up his pace to jog out of town, a different fire burning in his chest.

 

* * *

 

When Keith was twenty-four, his brother proposed to Allura.

He was happy for them. He really was. But he knew what that meant. It meant Shiro would move out, and he’d be on his own for the first time. He didn’t like being alone. Being alone meant he would have to start living for himself, which was daunting. He had gotten good grades for his parents. He had bottled up his mourning to comfort Shiro. He had gone to the college Shiro recommended. He had majored in physics because that’s what his teachers said he was good at. He was looking at grad schools because Allura had suggested it.

He stayed up all night thinking about it, and he was hard pressed to come up with any major decisions he had made in his life that were made because _he_ wanted it. He hated school, he hated college, he hated physics. The only thing that had been his own decision was to train for triathlons. He had spent so long living by the expectations of others that he wasn’t sure what he wanted, wasn’t sure where his place was in the world, wasn’t sure what his purpose was.

It was then that he learned that he didn’t know what he wanted.

 

* * *

 

Three miles ago, Keith felt like he was dying. There was not a single thing in his body that didn’t ache, and his mind had been bored to tears and exhausted for hours. But one mile from the finish, he felt all the adrenaline and all the excitement, the prospect of _stopping_ come flooding into him, pumping through his veins with renewed vigor and sending a spark into his steps. He didn’t jog fast, he didn’t think he could, but damn if he didn’t jog with purpose.

It was dark now, the three bands on his arm a heavy weight, the stupid glow stick necklace they gave him at his last loop wrapped around his wrist. The streets in town were dead now. People walked around, headed back to their hotels or homes, going out to restaurants, but no one sat along the sides of the road anymore. They would all be near the finish. He saw several athletes with their transition bags and bikes, finisher medals catching the light around their necks and silver blankets wrapped around their shoulders.

He was envious of them, but he was also fueled more than ever to just finish.

He didn’t know where he stood in the pack. He didn’t know if he was in the faster half or the slower half. He didn’t really care. There were a couple runners around him, but none of them were passing him and he wasn’t passing anyone. They all seemed to shuffled onward at a pace that was a little faster than it used to be.

The lights got brighter as he neared the finish. He could hear the music blasting, hear the announcer’s echoing voice, hear the cheers. He felt it in his blood. His mind was a mantra of _finish, finish, finish._ So much so, that he nearly didn’t notice the man that was standing nearby, who jogged up beside him as he passed.

“Looking good, little bro.”

Keith nearly tripped over his own god damn feet. “ _Shiro?_ ” Neither of them stopped. He didn’t think they could.

Shiro grinned. “How’re you feeling?”

“Dead.”

“Same.”

“What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you already have finished?”

He shrugged, smile turning sheepish. “Maybe?”

“How long have you been waiting?”

Another shrug. “Maybe twenty minutes? Thirty? Not sure.”

Keith groaned. “You’re ruining your time.”

“I don’t care about my time. I’m not here to get a new PR. I’m here to spend time with you.”

Keith blamed the prickling at the corners of his eyes on the fact that he was dead ass tired. “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe, but you love me.”

That last half a mile was the best Keith had felt all week.

They reached the chute, lined on both sides by portable and linkable metal fences. People hung over the edge of them. There were signs. There were bleachers lining the sides. Two mountains of people and faces and flailing limbs and the flashing of cameras. There was so much noise. Too much noise. It all blended and swelled together, wrapped up in the beat of a song Keith couldn’t even identify. All he could do was run side by side with Shiro, grinning as the finish line, with it’s large inflatable archway that read _IRONMAN_ loomed ahead of them. He didn’t even try to find the faces of their friends in the crowd. It was too thick, too chaotic, and his headspace was too cluttered. He’d never be able to spot them.

In that moment, despite the thousands of spectators and hundreds of cameras, Keith was alone with his brother. Just the two of them, together, moving toward the same goal. He felt invincible.

The only thing that cut through the din and cacophony of sound was the announcer’s voice.

“Takashi Shirogane and Keith Kogane, congratulations! You are an ironman!”

Shiro grabbed Keith’s hand as they crossed the finish line, holding up their hands as the automatic camera flashed. Keith felt his heart swell.

What came after that was a blur. Like all the other athletes, they were almost rushed through an assembly line of people. There were tables set up along the sides, creating another sort of tunnel they were shuffled through. People in volunteer shirts shoved things on them, into their hands, pushing them along as other athletes finished. He kept Shiro in his peripheral, but otherwise just let faceless hands urge him onward. He focused on getting his breathing under control, his heart rate down to normal, and keeping his knees from buckling.

By the time they were spat out of the makeshift tunnel, he had a silver space blanket wrapped around his shoulders, a finisher metal hanging heavy around his neck, a bottle of water in one hand, a paper plate with a slice of pizza in the other, and absolutely no idea where any of it came from.

But he was happy. He had finished. It was over. He was done. He had done it. His legs felt like jelly, his feet were aching, adrenaline was souring in his veins, he was coated in sweat, he felt disgusting, and his entire body was _buzzing_ with the surreal and dizzying sensation of stopping after moving for so long. But he had done it.

“Shiro!” Allura came flying out of the crowd in a blur of silvery white hair. Keith barely had time to register she was there before she was colliding with Shiro. He staggered with the weight of her, but stood firm. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she kissed him hard.

Keith watched them, a faint smile on his face, but an odd feeling twisting in his chest. He didn’t know what it was like to have someone waiting for him at the finish. Not like that, anyway. Not someone who would run up to him and—

“Keith!”

Before he could blink, there was a body crashing into him from behind, arms wrapping around his shoulders. He stumbled forward, but strong, lanky arms held him steady, a body pressed firm against his back, laughter like liquid honey in his ear.

“You did it!”

Keith turned around in his grip, and Lance let him. No sooner had he turned around were there hands on his face, long, slender fingers dipping into his hair, pulling him forward. Warm lips pressing against his own, smelling pleasantly like wood chips and the ocean, tasting sweet. He pulled back far too quickly, and Keith found himself leaning after him. He chuckled, hands falling to Keith’s chest, fingers resting on his collarbone. Lance was smiling wide, bright and brilliant, and Keith felt his heart stutter, chest swelling with something he didn’t think too hard about.

“Congrats, ironman.” He said, voice suddenly quiet, nearly swallowed by the noise around them. Had it not been for the short distance between them, he might have not heard him at all.

Keith, not quite in his right mind and filled with far too much exhaustion and emotions for his own good, said the first thing he thought of. “I’m gross.” He couldn’t understand how Lance could stand to be so close to him. He knew he must smell terrible, and he _felt_ gross.

Lance only chuckled and took a step closer, their bodies brushing, the space blanket crinkling between them. “Yeah, you are, but I don’t mind.”

Distantly, Keith knew he was probably grinning, but his face felt achingly numb and he didn’t quite care.

He felt the paper plate and water bottle slip from his hands, vaguely hearing them land on the pavement. But his hands were already slipping around Lance’s waist, tugging him closer until they were pressed tight, leaning forward to capture his lips. Lance hummed happily into his mouth, tilting his head to get even closer, arms wrapping around his neck to lock him in place.

Logically, the kiss couldn’t have been that great. He was sweaty, numb, and desperate. But Lance didn’t seem to mind. He pushed and gave as much as he got, almost hungry in the way his lips tugged at Keith’s, in the way his hands grabbed at him, in the way his body eagerly pressed against him. Everything faded into white noise, movement all around them feeling like it couldn’t touch them. The world kept moving, but the two of them stood still.

Keith’s head spun, his knees buckled, but Lance held him up and he couldn’t focus on anything other than the sweetness of his lips.

 

* * *

 

After a day spent mostly waiting for just moments of seeing Keith or Shiro go past, after the race, everything moved quickly.

Lance lost himself a little in the kiss, perhaps getting a little too deep and a little too handsy in public. They were pulled apart by Pidge, who shoved him away to give Keith her own hug, followed by Allura. Everyone gave them amused looked and pointed verbal jabs. Lance laughed them off, unfazed, but Keith glared whenever it happened, shoulders slumped and pouting. it was adorable.

Pictures were taken. Everyone posed with each other. Shiro and Keith. Shiro and Allura. Shiro, Keith, and Allura. Shiro and Pidge. Keith and Pidge. Shiro, Keith, and Pidge. Shiro, Keith, Allura, and Pidge. Then group pictures with everyone. Allura even insisted on getting a picture of him and Keith.

Shiro was very disgruntled to find that the only picture Keith didn’t flip off the camera in was in his solo picture with Lance.

While they walked toward the transition area, Keith leaned into Lance’s side and whispered that he had even managed to flip off the automatic camera that went off as they crossed the finish line. Lance laughed hard enough that everyone looked back at them.

They hung around for a bit, both Keith and Shiro attempting to eat some of the free food offered. Neither of them had eaten much all day, but now that they could, they were simultaneously ravenous and unable to eat. It was hilarious to watch them both stare longingly at their pizza and nibble it in small, determined bites.

It didn’t take long for them to announce they were going to head back to the hotel. They gathered their bags from the transition area, said goodbye to everyone, talked for an extra five minutes, and they headed away from the crowded ironman village. When Pidge and Hunk glanced at him, asking if he was coming, he shared a meaningful look with Keith before casually saying he was going to walk Keith back to his hotel.

He didn’t think it really came out casual, and he didn’t think any of their friends were in doubt for what that meant. They all pretended it was smooth though, and he was grateful for that.

As they made their way down the long road toward the hotel, Shiro and Keith shuffled, walking like they weren’t quite sure how legs worked, hunched in their space blankets, bags cradled to their chests. Allura and Lance casually rode their bikes, weaving around each other in lazy circles in the empty road as they kept to the slow pace the two athletes set. When they got to the hotel, Shiro gave the two of them, specifically Keith, a pointed and conflicted look, but Allura cheerfully bid them goodnight before pushing him into their room.

Lance walked Keith’s bike into his room, propping it against the wall as Keith dropped his bags and blanket on the floor, shuffling toward the bed. “Ooooh, no, you don’t.” Lance said, catching Keith by the wrist before he fell onto the bed. Keith groaned dramatically, slouching and giving enough resistance to Lance’s pull to let him know he was pouting as Lance pulled him into his arms.

“Laaaaance,” Keith’s arms rested loosely around his waist, head dropping down to rest on his shoulder.

Lance chuckled, one arm wrapped around his back and the other digging his fingers into Keith’s hair and lightly scratching at his scalp. Keith hummed, nuzzling a fraction closer. “I know you wanna lay down and die, but you’ll make the bed gross if you lay down now.”

“I don’t care…”

“Well, I do.” And then it occurred to him that he might be getting ahead of himself. He pulled back slightly, looking down at what he could see of Keith’s face. “If… you want me to stay, that is…” He said, uncertain, leaving the unarticulated question up in the air.

Keith leaned back, looking up at him through his lashes, hair a mess and only half in the ponytail that had miraculously struggled to hold throughout the whole day. He pouted, bottom lip sticking out in a look that should be illegal because it just wasn’t fair. Especially when he mumbled, “I want you to stay.”

A shiver ran right through him, from his head to his toes. His lips curled, voice soft and playful with relief, “Then you should shower. You’ll feel better after you do.”

He sighed, sound trailing off into a groan as he dropped his forehead to Lance’s shoulder once again. “I don’t even know if I can stand in the shower right now.”

Lance hummed, running his fingers through Keith’s hair and gently pulling out the hair tie to let it down. “Guess I’ll just have to go in with you then.” He felt Keith stiffen in his arms, felt the hitch of breath against his collarbone. “Gotta make sure you don’t fall over and hurt yourself. I can even help you wash your back.”

There was silence between them, and he could feel Keith holding his breath. Then he let it all out in a soft, “Okay.”

Lance had to fight to keep his grin down. Not that he needed to bother. Keith wouldn’t look at his face. “Come on,” He stepped back, gently grabbing Keith’s hands as he tugged him forward, toward the bathroom. Keith came willingly, cheeks pinkened from a flush and a sunburn.

Getting Keith out of his clothes proved to be more difficult than he imagined. The boy was _stiff_. Not that he blamed him. After going and going and going all day, stopping had a tendency to stiffen up the muscles. He removed the space blanket, letting it crumple to the floor before moving Keith to sit on the toilet, so he could kneel down and remove his shoes, peeling off his socks. His shirt and shorts were tight, which Lance hadn’t complained about before, but now he certainly was. They were stuck to him with sweat, and his stiff body made it difficult to shimmy them off of him.

He froze when he peeled off his shirt, letting it drop to the ground, forgotten, as he stared at Keith’s chest. The jade green fish hook rested innocently against his sternum, standing out against his pale flesh. He could feel his lips curling into a smile he couldn’t quite control. Something soft and warm and fuzzy acted up inside him.

“You wore it…” He said, voice a lot softer than he intended.

Keith blinked, then looked down, cheeks flushing afresh as he looked away. “Uh, yeah…”

“Did it help?” Lance asked, teasing as he pulled Keith to his feet. He decided to leave his necklace on.

“I like to think it did…” He mumbled, and Lance felt a pleasant warmth rise up his chest.

He gently led Keith through the open shower door, starting up the water and setting it to be warm enough to relax his no doubt aching muscles. He left him there, eyes closed under the spray, while he stripped himself. It was a much quicker process.

He stepped into the shower, closing the door behind him before slipping up behind Keith, sliding his arms around his waist. The effect was instant: Keith leaned back against him, not even trying to hide the fact that he was using Lance for support. His head tilted back against Lance’s shoulder, and he chuckled, nuzzling into Keith’s exposed neck. His body was firm and water slick against his front, ass pressing innocently against him. Lance felt his dick twitch with interest.

He didn’t know how long they stood like that, but Lance didn’t mind. He simply let Keith lean on him, taking in the brunt of the warm spray, hands idly tracing patters around his stomach, rising up to his chest, dripping down to his hips, teasing at the dark, curly hair but never quite going lower. Keith was breathing heavier than what was strictly normal, lips parted, eyes scrunched closed, brow pinched just a fraction. Lance ate it up, humming to a tune in his head as he gently swayed them back and forth, nose trailing along Keith’s cheek, his jaw, pressing soft kisses to his ear and neck, nibbling gently on his lobe. He didn’t try to hide the hardening erection pressed against Keith’s ass.

Keith didn’t seem to mind. He arched his back, grinding back against him.

When the slick, subtle, and sweet friction wasn’t quite cutting it anymore, Lance decided it was time to get down to business.

He gently pushed Keith forward, making sure he could stand upright before stepping away. He didn’t go far. When Keith finally opened his eyes, he took a moment to let his gaze rake hungrily and unabashed down Lance’s body before coming back up and settling on his chest. He reached out a hand, fingers pressing to the spiral pendant against his skin. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. The soft smile on his lips was enough, and Lance couldn’t help but press a slow, languid kiss to that smile.

He washed Keith’s hair, fingers digging deep in the strands and nails scratching at his scalp. He kept his eyes closed, head tilted back, humming his appreciation. When he finished rinsing his hair, Lance moved onto his body.

And what a damn fine body it was. Pale skin, taut over well sculpted muscles, a lean shape, thin hips, broad shoulders, tiny scars and freckles that were like landmarks over the map of his flesh. His chest was mostly clear of body hair, save for the thin happy trail that directed Lance down from his navel. Lance smoothed soap slick hands over him, fingers spread to feel and find every dip, every rise. He slid his hands around to feel out the strong plains of his back. He ran his hands over his shoulders, his neck, his arms, before sinking seamlessly to his knees and running his hands down strong firm thighs and tight calves.

Keith’s breath hitched, eyes crackling open to stare down at him, half lidded. With a smirk, Lance pressed his fingertips to Keith’s stomach, gently pushing him beneath the stream of water. Keith seemed to get the message, and washed off the soap quickly. Lance watched him, staying on his knees.

He spread his hands over Keith’s thighs, leaning forward to press his lips to his stomach, trailing kisses along to his hip, lathering his tongue along the bone. He was proud of the way Keith’s breathing went ragged, a hand hesitant as fingers ran through his hair. Lance looked up, holding Keith’s gaze as his fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, smirking as he leaned forward to press a kiss to his tip before flattening his tongue beneath the head. Keith gasped, hips twitching involuntarily.

And then without warning or preamble, Lance swallowed him down, and fingers tightened in his hair, Keith’s other hand shooting out to brace himself against the shower wall as the breath caught in his throat. If he could, Lance would have smiled. His ability to suppress his gag reflex was a trained talent mostly used to freak people out at parties when he proved he could shove a whole banana down his throat, but he wasn’t complaining that he got to put that skill to practical use now.

He gave himself a little time to adjust, but pushed his limits until his nose was buried in dark curls, feeling Keith pressing against the back of his throat. He held it for a moment before hollowing out his cheeks and sucking hard. He heard Keith’s choked moan, felt his thighs tremble beneath his fingers, felt the fingers curl in his hair and tug at the roots. Lance couldn’t help the moan that sounded deep in his throat, reverberating around Keith’s dick and causing him to echo it.

He recognized the signs of Keith struggling to remain upright, and pushed him until his back hit the wall of the shower and he could use it for support, shuffling forward to reclaim his spot in front of him.

He took things slow, alternating between slowly teasing him with his tongue and swallowing him down. He felt the stretch in his lips, felt the drool down his chin, but didn’t care. Water cascaded down them both, making the whole thing simultaneously cleaner and messier. He focused on the task at hand, at the saltiness of precum on his tongue, and ignored the burn in his knees, the ache of his own cock. All he cared about was the heaviness of Keith’s dick in his mouth and the noises slipping from his throat.

Time lost meaning as he absorbed himself into the task at hand. Nothing but them and the warm spray of water, the sound echoing off the shower walls and around the bathroom, loud but oddly muted and surreal. Keith’s thighs shook, hips rocking like he couldn’t control it. Lance let him. Let him bury his fingers in his hair, let him fuck his mouth.

The tug at his hair, the tightening of his legs, and the choked gasping of his name was the only warning he got that Keith was close. He swallowed him down, sucking hard as Keith’s orgasm hit him. He only managed to swallow half of it, the rest dribbling down his chin as he pulled off him, and he quickly wiped it away.

Hands were on his shoulder, fingers uselessly grabbing at his upper arms in a vain attempt to pull him up. He stood on shaking knees, the sharp pain forgotten as soon as Keith tugged him forward, leaning against him to pin him to the wall while they kissed. Keith’s tongue pushed into his mouth, and he groaned loudly as calloused fingers wrapped around his hard length. Keith made quick work of him, one hand pumping him quickly and urgently while his other arms wrapped around Lance’s shoulder. Meanwhile Lance leaned into him, clinging to his waist for support, kissing him like he would drown otherwise, moaning into his mouth. When he couldn’t keep it up, he panted heavily, head tossed back as Keith attacked his neck.

He came with a strangled cry, body rocking through his orgasm before he collapsed against Keith. The wall, however, couldn’t hold them up any longer. Both of their knees buckled, legs giving out as they slid very ungracefully to the floor limbs and bodies entangled. Water cascaded down them as they both laughed, arms wrapping around each other as he buried his face in Keith’s neck.

He wasn’t sure how they managed to get out of the shower, how they managed to dry off and make it to the bed, but he was certain there was a lot of stumbling and sloppy, eager but lazy kisses involved. As soon as they laid down, Lance wrapped him up, curling around him and pulling him to his chest, nuzzling his nose into the back of his neck. Keith sighed, body slumping into his.

Lance fell asleep with the fleeting and cliche thought that he wished his moment could last forever, followed up closely by the dread that it wouldn’t.

 

* * *

 

When Lance was twenty-four, he was in a rut.

He was working a dead end job that had nothing to do with his major. He was living in a town that he hated. By the time he got home from working, he was too exhausted to do anything he actually wanted to do. He never saw his friends anymore. He rarely visited his family. He felt alone, alienated. He started to realize his world was turning gray. The things that had once made him happy were no longer cutting it. He was miserable, and had fallen into that dark, deep pit so slowly and steadily that he hadn’t realized it until it was too late. He didn’t know how to climb back out.

It was terrifying to realize that he didn’t remember what it was like to be happy, and came to the conclusion that the comfort and safety of what he knew wasn’t worth being miserable. So he quit his job, moved his shit back home, and convinced Hunk to travel with him to New Zealand. No plan, no goal. Just getting away and going on an adventure. To get away until he felt alive again.

It was then that he learned that happiness is worth chasing into the wild unknown.

 

* * *

 

Waking up the next morning was like rising through molasses. His mind felt thick and foggy, and every time he thought he might wake, he was dragged back down to unconsciousness. When he finally did manage to wake up, his eyelids were too heavy to open right away. His body felt like lead, aching and sore and like dead weight. He felt warm, but there was no longer a body pressed against him.

He finally cracked his eyes open, squinting against the light streaming through his window. Save for him, the bed was empty. The blankets crumpled and pillow showing the ghost of someone who was no longer there. He listened, but he didn’t hear any movement in the room. He held his breath, waiting, hoping Lance would come out of the bathroom and smile at him like he had before.

He didn’t.

Keith was alone.

And Lance hadn’t even woken him up to tell him he was leaving.

Something twisted in his gut, a sinking ball of lead that started to corrode. Despite his ravenous hunger, he didn’t feel like eating. Wasn’t sure if he could. He rolled onto his side, away from the side of the bed that had gone cold, feeling that chill seep into his skin, sending icy tendrils through his chest. His heart felt as heavy as his limbs, and he closed his eyes against the prickling at the corners, curled into a ball to try to relieve the sickening twisting there.

He had always felt as though his time with Lance was on a timer, always _known_ , but he had ignored it. Now time was up, and it left him feeling oddly hollow.

He let sleep claim him again, but it was restless and fitful.

 

* * *

 

“Come on, Keith, just one more picture.” Allura’s voice was kind, her smile soft as she unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the car door.

He sighed, pulling off his headphones and setting them aside on the seat before sliding out of the car. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his new finisher jacket and hunched his shoulder a bit, dipping his chin into the collar as he trudged after Shiro and Allura.

They had stopped at an overlook high up on a hill as they were leaving Taupo for, apparently, one last picture.

The previous day had been spent stocking up on finisher merchandise, saying goodbye to friends, and packing, but it had given Keith plenty of time to mope around. He was still moping, if he were being honest, and he didn’t really care if the others noticed.

He stepped up to the overlook edge, a waist high stone wall, and stared out over the buildings that lined one side of the lake. His gaze was immediately drawn to the large, rainbow parasail that dragged against the horizon. He felt a pang in his chest that he was quickly becoming familiar with, a hollowness that was unlike anything he’d felt before, a regret that soured in his stomach, a bitterness at the back of his tongue.

He hadn’t seen Lance all of yesterday, after he had woken up alone. There had been only one note, a simple piece of paper that read _Good Morning! ;P_ and was set by a french press filled with room cooled coffee. He hadn’t woken Keith up to say goodbye, and made no effort to see him again after. It was as if Lance had slipped away from his life in the middle of the night, leaving no trace of his presence behind except for the memories that haunted him.

His fists tightened in his pockets.

He was an idiot. He _knew_ he was an idiot. He had known this was nothing more than a fling. Some kind of summer hook up and nothing more. A moment shared halfway across the world, soon to be faded and put on a distant pedestal with the rest of his vacation memories. He had known this would happen, yet he couldn’t stop himself from feeling the bitter resentment of regret. Maybe he should have talked more, more about what they were doing and what it would mean, but what would that have changed? Nothing.

He grit his teeth, jaw clenching till it ached.

He was an idiot. He was furious at Lance for just leaving without saying goodbye, feeling like he was lacking closure. He had thought that he meant more to Lance than that. So much so, that he was tempted to storm down to the docks and demand he say goodbye. But he held back because what would that change? Nothing.

He glared daggers into the rainbow parasail as he was dragged down from the sky, pulled back to the boat that was already turning back toward the docks.

He was an idiot. He had stupidly thought he had felt something between them. Something that had the potential to grow to more. Something that could be a good foundation. Something that could be built on. He should have known. Nothing was ever that easy. Nothing ever went the way he wanted it to.

What _did_ he want?

He wanted Lance, but he couldn’t have Lance, and that fact was sour and vile, twisting his gut and clenching his heart.

Lance hadn’t even cared enough to say goodbye. How often was this a thing he did? Sweeping tourists off their feet, having his fun, and then leaving them to return home without a word from him? Was Keith just one in the line of many? Lance was charming, yes. He was cocky and confident, yes. But Keith hadn’t thought he had the ability to fake something like what Keith felt blossoming between them.

Apparently he was wrong.

“Get in here,” Shiro said, slinging an arm over his shoulder and pulling him close. Even Shiro would leave him once they got back. He leaned into his brother’s side, inhaling his familiar scent and wishing for the world that he could tell him what was happening. He couldn’t though. Not without either hearing Shiro’s disappointment for getting attached when he shouldn’t. Or worse, his disappointment and insistence that Keith could have done more to get what he wanted.

The fish hook pendant was a heavy weight on his chest. Despite everything, he couldn’t bring himself to take it off.

Allura leaned into his other side, grinning and holding up a peace sign. Shiro held his phone out, camera app open and flipped to selfie mode. He adjusted his arm so they were all in the frame, and for once, Keith didn’t flip off the camera. He didn’t have the energy to. He didn’t care anymore.

Right before Shiro was able to take the picture, his phone died.

“What the…” He frowned, pulling his phone to him and tapping the screen, pressing the home button.

Allura sighed. “I _told_ you to charge it last night.”

He managed to look sheepish. “I forgot…”

They used Allura’s phone for the selfie instead.

“Keith, can I use your block to charge my phone?” Shiro asked as they walked back to the car. Well, _walking_ was a strong word. Both of them hobbled, like newborn deer who weren’t quite sure how legs and knees hurt. They both wore compression sleeves on their calves to keep their legs from swelling, but they were still achingly sore, and he knew they would be for days.

He shrugged. “Yeah, I think it’s in my other jacket.” He opened the back of the car, digging through his backpack for his hoodie, the one he’d been wearing until they bought finisher jackets. He pulled it out, searching the pockets for the block charger he was pretty sure he had left in there.

Only for his hands to find a piece of paper instead.

His brow furrowed as he pulled it out. It was obviously torn from the notepad in his hotel room, folded several times. He didn’t remember putting this here. He turned it over to see his name scrawled on the side. HIs heart leapt into his throat, stopping his breath in a choked hitch. Shiro and Allura were talking where they stood by the driver’s seat, but their voices faded, drowned out by the ringing in his ears. He carefully unfolded the note with shaking fingers.

_Surprise Note! ;P Good morning, sleepy head! Sorry I had to leave. Hunk texted me and said we have an early reservation this morning and you looked so cute I didn’t want to wake you <3 Not that I had to try to be silent. You were out like a rock, like goddamn, I had to make sure you were still breathing a couple times. Anyway! Wanna do lunch? Or dinner? My lunch break is at 1 and I get off work at 7, so if you wanna like… hang out and stuff before you go, you know where to find me! Come pick me up ;) Later, ironman!_

_PS, if that wasn’t clear, I’m asking you out on a date. Like a date-date. With food and talking and everything_

Keith felt like he couldn’t breathe. His hands were shaking, fingers curling so tightly into the note that it crumbled.

Lance had… he had wanted to see him again? A date? A _date_? Right before he was going to leave? And he had done it through a _note_? A note in a hoodie that he hadn’t worn in _days_? Was he _stupid?_ He had to be stupid. What a fucking idiot. What a beautiful fucking idiot. Keith was going to kill him. He was going to fucking murder that boy.

His heart hammered in his chest so hard, he thought he felt his jade pendent bouncing on his sternum. His limbs felt numb, distant. His mouth was dry.

What did he want?

He wanted Lance. That fucking idiot.

He slammed the trunk closed with enough force to make the others jump.

“Keith, what—“

“We have to go back.” Keith said, perhaps a little too loudly, but there was a ringing in his ears, the pulse in his veins, and it was hard to tell how loud he was being. He didn’t care.

Shiro blinked, then his brows furrowed. “What are you—“

“We have to go back.” He said again, note crumpled in one hand, curled tight into a fist. His jaw was set, eyes fierce as he glared at Shiro, _daring_ him to contradict him.

Shiro wasn’t budging, but he didn’t look mad. Just confused. “We just left.”

“I have to go back.”

“Why—“

“I have to see Lance.”

His brows went up, mouth opening, then closing as no words came. Keith didn’t have time for this. He turned to Allura. “You’re the one driving. Take me back into town. To the docks. I need to see Lance before we go.”

“Didn’t you already say goodbye to him?” Shiro asked.

“No!” Keith tugged at his own hair, the sharp pain of it oddly grounding. “That’s the problem! He’s a fucking idiot who left me a note _in a hoodie that I didn’t wear for days_!” He said shaking his fist with the note crumpled inside.

“Why is this so important?” Keith rounded on him, but Shiro held up his hands, quickly continuing in a clam voice. “I’m not saying no, and I’m not patronizing you. I’m just trying to understand the urgency.”

Keep took a deep breath, trying to ground himself when his entire body felt like it was vibrating out of his own skin. He met Shiro’s gaze steadily. “We slept together.” His brother gaped, mouth falling open and eyebrows shooting upward. “Twice.” And if he wasn’t feeling like he might actually die at any moment, he might find the look on Shiro’s face hilarious. He turned to Allura, who seemed much better able to take the news. She was watching him curiously, but not surprised. “He left without saying goodbye and I thought that was his way of saying he was done with me, but I just found this note and—“ His words got faster and faster, twisting his tongue until his breath choked him off as his voice cracked. He held out the note to Allura, fingers uncurling with great effort.

She took the note gingerly and read it.

“ _Keith_.” Shiro made a strange, strangled sound. “My pure baby brother!” He cried, voice dramatic enough to the point where it had to be teasing, but with a very read edge of surprised panic. “What happened to you?”

“Shrio.”

“Your innocence!”

 _”Shiro!_ ”

“ _Defiled—_ ”

“ _You were the one who told me to get laid on this trip_.”

“It was a joke!”

“Let’s go.” Allura said, voice crisp, clean, and authoritative, cutting through their conversation. She handed the note back to Keith.

He looked up at her, brightening as a warm feeling flared in his chest, melting the numbness but leaving a raging fire in it’s wake. “Really?” He breathed.

She nodded once, already opening the car door. “Yup, let’s go.”

“Allura—“

“No but’s, Shiro, unless it’s yours getting into the car. This is a matter of romance and love.”

Keith slid into the backseat, hands still shaking as he pulled out a piece of paper and pen. He didn’t think too hard on what Allura had said and whether or not it had the potential to be true.

 

* * *

 

When Keith was twenty-five, he met a boy with beautiful blue eyes and a blinding smile.

He was cocky, and smug, and competitive. He was kind, and gentle, and compassionate. He was energetic, and rash, and impulsive. He was sweet, and funny, and thoughtful. He came into Keith’s life as a coincidence, blowing through his world like a hurricane, taking root in his mind and his heart. Their time together was short, easily written off as a moment not meant to last, as a random happenstance. He could have let it go, gone home, and let him live on as a fond memory in the recesses of his mind. He could have easily moved on with his life without Lance, never see him again and not think twice about it.

But Keith didn’t want that.

He wanted Lance.

He didn’t know if they were meant to be. He didn’t know if they would last. He didn’t know if it would be worth it. He only knew that Lance made an impact in his life, and it was one he wasn’t willing to let him go without trying. He wanted to explore their potential, their spark.

He learned that life isn’t always easy, but life is what you make of it.

 

* * *

 

“Lance, what’s wrong, buddy?” Hunk’s voice was soft and soothing, but damn if Lance wasn’t in the mood for it.

“Nothing…” He grumbled, refusing to look up to meet his best friend’s eyes. He sat on the upper deck at the back of the boat, feet on the lower deck and elbows on his knees as he gazed at Lance.

He did hear the hum of concern though. “Dude, I got you like, your favorite drink ever and you haven’t touched it.”

He gave a halfhearted shrug. “Not thirsty.”

“Or maybe the problem is you’re _too_ thirsty.” Pidge said without looking up. She sat in the driver’s seat, feet propped up on the railing that ran down the center of the boat.

Lance frowned at her, blindly grabbing in the space under the bench seats for a jacket pout and throwing it at her. She swatted it harmlessly to the floor, and he didn’t have the energy for a follow up attack.

He laid sprawled out on the bench seats at the front of the boat, lying on his side with his head cushioned on one arm and his other arm hanging uselessly off the edge of the seat.

“I still think you should have tried to find him and _talk_ to him.” Pidge said, sounding far too disgruntled than what was fair. It wasn’t any of her business.

“What good would that do? He made his stance on the matter pretty clear when he stood me up.” He grumbled.

“Maybe he just didn’t see your note?” Hunk suggested.

Lance scowled at the floor of the boat. “I put it in the hoodie he wears everywhere. There’s no way he didn’t see it.”

Silence fell over the boat. It was a conversation they’d had several times already, and quite frankly, he was sick of it. He was fine moping on his own without his friends trying to make him feel better. He knew they meant well, but it didn’t help. It wasn’t _going_ to help. Lance had gotten too attached to someone who saw him as nothing more than a vacation fling, and now he would hurt for it. Nothing new there. So why did it hurt so much?

Probably because he felt a lot of _potential_ between him and Keith. He had really thought they clicked, thought that maybe, just maybe, they were on the same page.

Apparently not.

He forced himself to breathe deep, pushing past the heaviness in his lungs, the hollowness in his chest. His stomach rolled, hungry and demanding food, but he had no appetite, and he had a feeling he’d be nauseous if he tried. He was even starting to get a headache from lack of caffeine, his now cold coffee sitting close by and mocking him.

He was an idiot. He should have known. He shouldn’t have gotten attached. This was his fault. He deserved to feel this way. He couldn’t blame Keith. Keith hadn’t meant to hurt him. Probably. They just weren’t on the same page. It was his fault for getting hurt. He had expectations, hopes, that he shouldn’t have had. And now they were souring and leaving him feeling sick. He’d be okay, eventually. Keith would fade to a distant memory, just another _what if_ in his life. He’d probably always regret not just _talking_ to him like a normal human being, but he didn’t think he’d ever regret the time he spent with him.

He heard the car pull up in front of their dock, saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. Fuck. He _really_ didn’t want to work right now. The last trip out had been torture, his smile feeling fake and melting like plaster off his face.

“Hunk, do we have any reservations right now?”

“Uh, nope, not unless they booked in the last five minutes.”

A door opened and slammed shut. Great. Someone sounded angry. Were they about to be yelled at? He shuffled through his memory, trying to remember if they had offended anyone recently or had any dissatisfied customers. He didn’t think so, but tourists were crazy. It wouldn’t be the first time they got an earful for absolutely nothing.

“Keith?” Pidge said, surprise evident in her voice.

Lance felt his blood run cold and his heart stopped. His head snapped up, eyes blowing wide as they settled on Keith. _Keith_. He stomped down the dock, feet hitting the wood with a vengeance, determined fury blazing in his eyes, brows furrowed, whole face pulled into a vicious scowl. Those dark, dangerous eyes were zeroed in on _him_.

And he looked _mad_.

Lance’s heart jumped straight into overtime. He sat up, scrambling backwards, knees going up and hands behind him to hold him up. “ _Keith?_ ” His voice was barely more than a squeak.

Keith leapt onto the boat, and Hunk scrambled to scoot out of his way. He stomped straight up to Lance, stumbling for only a second as the boat rocked under him.

“Keith, what are you—“

Keith planted his knee on the seat between his legs, using the other to keep him standing as he hunched over him. Two hands grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged him forward.

And then he was being kissed.

The kiss wasn’t kind and it wasn’t gentle. It was angry, rough, raw, and fierce. His lips were hard against his own, teeth biting, tongue shoving into his mouth with little remorse.

Lance felt his entire body still, hands hovering awkwardly in the air, heart pounding, breath frozen in his lungs, unable to move past the lump in his throat. Then, slowly, he melted into it. His eyes drifted closed, head automatically tilting to deepen the kiss, tongue rising to meet Keith’s. His hands found their way to Keith’s face, fingers burying into his hair and holding tight, like his only anchor out at sea. As soon as he started to respond, Keith eased into him, relaxing and softening their kiss. Lance hadn’t realized how stiff he had been until they were both melting into each other.

There was a lot of hoots and hollering, comments that he didn’t quite hear and didn’t care to. He was lost in Keith. The smell of him, the feel of him, the warmth of him, the taste of him.

Then they broke apart just as violently as they had come together, but they hovered close, panting breaths that fanned out across each other’s lips. Keith was too close for him to really see him clearly, but that didn’t stop him from trying. His hands were still clenched fists in Lance’s shirt, and his fingers still held tight in his hair.

“Keith…” He breathed, hearing the whine in his own voice but not caring.

“Who. The fuck…” He said between heavy breaths. Lance winced at the anger in his voice. “Leaves a note. In someone’s _hoodie_. Instead of on the nightstand?!”

Lance bristled, voice raising in pitch. “I wanted to surprise you!”

“Well, you did! Two days _later_!”

That was— that meant— oh. OH. _Oh_.

“You— you didn’t just stand me up?”

“I thought _you_ stood _me_ up!”

“Why would I do that?”

“Probably for the same reasons you thought _I_ did!”

That— oh. Fuck. God _damn_ , he was an idiot.

“I— oops?”

Keith leaned back far enough for Lance to _really_ see him roll his eyes. “Yeah, fucking _oops_. My _hoodie_ , Lance? _Really?_ ”

Lance loosened his grip a fraction, frowning as he leaned back to narrow his eyes at him. “It was romantic! It was gonna be a surprise! Like the joy of finding a dollar you forgot about in your pocket! Why don’t _you_ check your pockets?!”

“I haven’t worn that hoodie since before the race!”

“Wha— how— but— _How was I supposed to know?_ You wore that hoodie almost every day!”

“After the race, we buy finisher jackets!” Keith said, releasing his shirt with one hand to gesture to the jacket he was wearing, and yup, that was a finisher jacket. Lance _definitely_ felt like an idiot.

“I didn’t know that!”

“You should’ve just woken me up!”

“You were cute and tired and I felt bad!”

“You’re an idiot!”

“I _know_!”

Keith sat back on the seat, one hand still clenching his shirt but with significantly less force. He shoved his other hand into his pocket, pulling something out and holding his hand out to him. “ _Here_.”

“What?”

“Just— just take it.” His voice was softer now, almost uncertain. Hesitant? Sheepish? After storming onto the boat like a hurricane out for a vengeance? He shoved a piece of paper into Lance’s hand, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. His hand dropped from Lance’s shirt, both hands twisting together in his lap.

“O…kay?” He unfolded the paper, eyeing Keith curiously. He looked down and— his breath caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, licking his lips, heart fluttering in his chest. “Is this…?”

Keith’s head was bowed, hiding his expression. His voice was strong when he spoke, but broken at the edges, giving away his nervousness. “My number and my skype name… so you can talk to me, if you want, or whatever…”

Lance felt like he couldn’t breathe, but for once it was a good feeling. He hooked a finger under Keith’s chin, forcing him to lift his head, and waited for him to meet his eyes. When he did, Lance was floored by the sheer stubborn determination he found there. His lips pursed into a thin line. Once he met Lance’s eyes, he refused to look away.

Lance didn’t say anything. He didn’t think he could. So he did the only thing he could think to do: he kissed him.

The kiss was slow and sweet, a gentle push and pull of their lips, something sweet and gentle that gave way to something slow and heated, passionate and excited, fueled by a promise that neither of them dared to think might be possible, a promise of _more_ , a promise that this wasn’t the end. It wasn’t goodbye. It was a see you later.

Keith’s fingers ran through his hair, and his arms wrapped around Keith’s waist, pulling him into his lap. He kissed him deeply and without reserve, letting Keith know _exactly_ how he felt through actions because words had failed him. Keith seemed adamant about doing the same thing.

“That is so sweet,” He heard Hunk whisper, voice warbling in a way that told him his best friend was close to tears.

“They’re so cute.” Allura agreed, voice a whispered coo.

“It’s like a train wreck,” Pidge said, not bothering to keep her voice down. “Terrible, but I can’t look away.”

Lance and Keith both flipped her off over Keith’s shoulder but didn’t stop kissing. He didn’t think they could.

“Call me when you get back to the states?” Keith whispered, lips moving against his lips.

“Only if you go on a skype date with me when you get home.”

“Deal.”

Shiro made a disbelieving sound, cutting through the moment as he muttered. “I can’t believe my baby brother is fucking the River Man…”

And as the boat erupted into a sung chorus of _RIVER MAAAAN_ , Keith laughed against Lance’s lips, his own curling up into a small smirk. “My new favorite cryptid.”

 

* * *

 

When Lance was twenty-five, he met a boy with beautiful, shy smile and eyes like the depths of the ocean.

He was gruff, and sour, and rough around the edges. He was fragile, and caring, and incredibly gentle. He was hot-headed, and competitive, and always scowling. His smile thoughtful, and strong, and beautiful, inside and out. He slipped into Lance’s life like so many others, but latched on and refused to let go. He was complex and grouchy, but hid layers of humor and playful smiles beneath his resting scowl. He was hard on the outside, but Lance slipped easily in to find that soft center. And he fell, hook, line, and sinker.

It could have easily been a fling, a hook up, a casual affair. Despite the moments they shared, Lance could have moved on, could have let him go, could have treated him like all the others that had come and gone.

But he made Lance see colors again. Took that warm trickle of happiness that had slowly been leaking back into his life and smashed the flood gates wide open. Lance wasn’t ready to let that go.

He could have moved on. He could have found someone else. But he didn’t want to. He wanted Keith. Keith made him happy, and that was worth fighting for, fighting to keep. He didn’t think it would be easy, but he did think it would be worth it.

No regrets, right?

He learned that coincidences can be more if you want them to be, and happiness is what you make of it.

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided [Keep Me Crazy - Sheppard](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5yqvEXoIPVA) is the perfect theme for this fic. It has a super upbeat and fun feel, while still having this vibe of "idk what I'm doing with my life, but you make me happy, so yolo" which is exactly what this fic is about. Pls listen to it and suffer feels with me.
> 
> "River MaaaAAAN!" is actually a family meme that happened when my brother and I watched someone disappear down the river, so I couldn't resist, lol. You have to sing-song it kinda like you would "ocean man" but a little more augmented and drawn out. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! For more of my writing, feel free to check out my other on-going fics (if you haven't already, lol)
> 
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